Arrows of Light
by ShadowThief15
Summary: The sun was sinking slowly, blood-red in a smoking haze. In the last glow of the amber light, straw sandals leapt lightly over rooftops, moving in a blur. The mood was grim, yet General Yamamoto's word was law. The Quincies were condemned. UryuXOC
1. A Matter of Pride

Okay, this is the very first chapter of Arrows of Light! WOOT ;) In this first chapter, the main character is six, but in the next one she'll be fifteen. I tried to picture how the battle between the shinigami and the Quincies would have happened, I hope I did an ok job. Remember, fanFICTION, people. Enjoy it!!

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**A Matter of Pride**

The sweltering heaviness in the air increased. The dark clouds had begun to overtake the tall mountaintops south of Karakura, a somber canopy of billowing edges flecked with dazzling light.

The sun was sinking slowly, blood-red in a smoking haze. In the last glow of the amber light, straw sandals leapt lightly over rooftops, moving in a blur. The shinigami who had been sent on this dismal mission were grim, most not liking what they were sent to do, but had no choice. General Yamamoto's word was law.

Soon, they reached the bloodstained field where shinigami were calling out the names of their zanpakutou, driven to use their _bankai_ so early on in battle. The shinigami had to fight their hardest, because the Quincies were all fighting…for their pride.

Shrieks echoed across the town, lives were shattered as the battle went on, flashes of light clashing with the darkening sky. The Quincies breathed, knowing that they had not longer to do so, for slowly but surely, their numbers were decreasing rapidly.

The Quincy race was condemned. Condemned for disrupting the balance of the universe, they were sentenced to death. Men, women, and children alike were killed, for putting the mortal world in danger by exterminating Hollows completely, leaving not a trace. Some attempted to hide their reitsu, while others, for whom this was extremely difficult to accomplish, fled. It was no use however, for their whereabouts were known to the Soul Society eventually, given away by the ones who they thought were their friends. A shadow of fear paralyzed all of those who had any hope left.

The last of the Quincy race, a group of three and fifty, fought on valiantly, bloodied fingers struggling to string their bows. Secretly, they looked at one another in desperation. They all knew their fate, that the end was near.

One little girl hid her face in her small hands, glistening tears silently rolling down her face. She was huddled at the base of a large boulder at the edge of the battlefield, knowing that her parents had told her to stay hidden. She knew that her mother and father were out there fighting for the sake of all Quincies. For her, their six year old daughter. She couldn't just stay away.

Suddenly, she screamed as the boulder behind her exploded. She was thrown forward by the impact as clods of dirt flew into the air. Wincing, she sat up and stared at the scene before her with piercing ice blue eyes.

All around her, people were running and shouting as blood splattered the grass. Confused yells and screams were heard above the din of arrows whistling through the air and the sickening thunks heard when some found their mark.

She sat there in horror because of what she beheld, hardly noticing when she was roughly kicked or stumbled over. Her innocence was stolen from her as she was exposed to the fact that the world could be such an unforgiving and cruel place.

Her breathing grew quicker as she rose and backed away slowly. Tears were flowing freely now from her intense eyes, though she barely noticed them. Where were her parents?

Her eyes burned as she squeezed them shut, and she gripped the Quincy charm on its thin bracelet as if it was a life preserver. Spells wove swiftly through one another in swirls of color in midair, the brilliant flash of Quincy arrows visible even behind her closed eyelids.

She rocked back and forth, hugging herself with her arms as an unnatural chill found her in the midst of that forsaken battlefield. She was alone.

Meanwhile, a taichou hastily gave orders to his division as they came to him in groups of three, filling them in on the current situation. There weren't many left that the shinigami had to defeat, but the ones who remained were very strong. He looked in dismay at the raging battle, wishing that they never would have had to resort to such measures. It was difficult enough for him to aid the Soul Society in the destruction of the Quincy race……

Suddenly, his dark eyes settled on a small girl who sat with her head buried in her arms a little away from the fighting. He felt a sudden surge of anger, which was most unlike him.

These people they were killing, they had families. And these families were being torn apart. This child, who had done nothing, was to die. But it was for the protection of the living world, right?

He had never felt so lost, so confused. Was this really the correct solution? Could the Soul Society have done something more?

But whether it had been the right choice or not, it was happening. And the Quincies would be obliterated.

He clenched the handle of his zanpakutou more tightly.

He wasn't cruel. He was actually looked upon as one of the most kind-hearted captains in the Soul Society. But he was a taichou, which meant that he had to follow the rules and set an example for his division.

Just then, the boulder behind the girl blew up, and she was thrown forward. When she rose, he watched as her face crumpled and her eyes grew bright with tears as she witnessed the chaos unfolding before her. His heart shattered when her head lowered and her eyes shut with despair.

He saw her anguish and hopelessness, and made a split-second decision. He ordered his assistant captain to take over for the time being, and then he took action.

Using _shunpo_, he materialized directly beside the broken girl, covering her with his shihakusho. He appeared again a ways down the mountain, far from the battle. The little girl was clinging to him as if her life depended on it, clenching his robes and shaking violently.

He kneeled down to her level, and lifted up her chin. With a small shock, he noticed her flashing ice blue eyes. He stared into those eyes, which were wide and fearful. The world was too cold.

"Will my mommy and daddy be all right?" she whispered. He marveled at the seriousness of the tone of her voice, not hysterical in the least.

"Run, child." he murmured gently. "Survive for your mother and father. You must continue living in their stead."

The girl turned away, tears rolling down her pale cheeks, until she angrily wiped them away.

"I will." she said forcefully, looking up at him once more. "I will. For my parents."

She stared hard at the face of her savior, as if memorizing his features. "A….arigatou." she gave him a shaky smile.

He brushed away the last of her tears with his thumbs, and ruffled her hair briefly. "Be strong…"

And he disappeared.

She stood stock-still for a moment, gazing at the place where he vanished as if caught in a spell. She turned, and took a deep breath when she realized that she'd been holding it in. Looking at the town ahead, she clenched her small fists and began making her way down the mountain.

She reached the base of the mountain by nightfall. She'd determinedly pressed on though she had been extremely weary. Her face stung, having been cut by brambles. Her legs had been whipped by the jagged branches which had been sticking out of the shrubs that she'd pushed out of her way. Her clothes were torn and dirty, and she ached all over.

Yet, she hardly noticed. She went on, fueled by the strength which was given to her by the mysterious person who had saved her life.

When she reached the town, she made herself stumble through the streets, half-asleep. Nobody was out, the streets were empty. The streetlights burned her eyes…she sat on the sidewalk to rest. Soon, she felt sleep overcoming her. She struggled to keep her eyes open, to no avail. She collapsed sideways on the concrete as her strength diminished, she neither knew nor cared. The last thing she heard through the haze, her head spinning, was a voice exclaiming something in surprise.

A blanket of darkness washed over her, and she felt no more.

-OOO-


	2. A Golden Dawn

Numero Uno. I hope I can figure out my plot soon ;D Review for your favorite Bleach bishie, if not for me...

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**A Golden Dawn**

Shiori stirred, feeling the warmth of the sun from her window which made her all the more reluctant to get out of bed.

Birds chirped loudly. A soft breeze stirred her curtains, casting a cool breath of air around her bedroom. She snuggled deeper into her covers, but then groaned and blinked, turning to face her alarm clock.

It was six forty five. Shiori raised an arm and laid it across her eyes, to block out the glaring sun. She wished that she could just sleep forever.

But unfortunately, that was _not_ an option.

The amber glow of morning cast golden rays of light around the small room, and bathed Shiori's bed in a little patch of sun. Ah, the silence of the morning…

Just then, her alarm clock decided to go off.

"Gah." Shiori, who was half-asleep, fumbled around for a minute before locating the source of her irritation and smacking it until its incessant beeping ceased.

"Stupid thing. Why I even need an alarm, I have no idea. The birds are enough to wake me anyway…."

She sighed in defeat, and rolled out of bed, throwing off her covers and slipping her feet into thin dark blue slippers. Stumbling into the tiny kitchen, she put on a kettle of water to heat up, and then sat in a chair to wait.

Shiori lived alone, and she liked it. She didn't particularly care that she had no one, having her books to keep her company. Actually, she found herself reveling in her solitude rather than being depressed by it.

She enjoyed the quiet, the feeling of peace that living alone offered. By now, she wouldn't have had it any other way, now that she was free of the wretched orphanage that she had grown up in.

"All right, already!" she muttered, hearing the high-pitched squeal of the kettle. Grasping the edge of the table to pull herself up, Shiori shuffled to the stove and turned it off.

Kneeling on the kitchen floor, she searched for the box of chamomile tea which she'd bought the day before. She had gone shopping only yesterday, and had shoved it onto the bottom shelf of the cupboard. The cupboard was well-stocked at the moment, having received her paycheck from Ito at Sunflower Seams, a little sewing shop fifteen minutes from her apartment. Thankfully it was a steady job, because working there paid Shiori's rent and for her groceries.

Ah, she had found the tea. Shiori now busied herself with making herself a steaming mug, and then added water to some instant ramen and shoved that into the microwave. She pulled back the chair at the round kitchen table, and sat there with her chin resting on one hand and occasionally sipping her tea thoughtfully.

Suddenly, she remembered why her clock had been set to go off earlier than usual.

Today was her first day attending Karakura high school.

Shiori raised her mug for another sip of tea, feeling somewhat queasy. Her old school in the district next to Karakura's had been bearable, but the fact that the majority of her class was part of gangs who roamed the alleyways after school hours….

It wasn't only that. Academically-wise, her old school had been _far_ from satisfactory. And Shiori took her studies quite seriously.

She wasn't bad-looking. In fact, she'd been asked out a few times, but the unfortunate ones who'd asked her were all emotionlessly rejected. She personally thought that dating was a waste of time. Her old class used to ask her to join them in their after-school runs to coffee shops and the library, but their offers stopped as soon as they realized that she had no interest.

Shiori had decided that it was time for a change, so she'd applied to Karakura High and was accepted without any issues.

After hurrying through breakfast, hardly tasting the food, Shiori walked back to her bedroom.

She had her arm pressed across her stomach, like she always did when she was nervous, as she sifted through her closet to find her new uniform. Why did she feel so sick? And why were her hands shaking?!

It was only a stupid new school where she would learn, eat, learn some more, and then come right home! What was the big deal?

Meeting new people. Getting used to new teachers and a new schedule, classrooms…

Being introduced to the entire class.

Shiori's fingers fumbled with the buttons of her new white blouse. Who was she kidding, this was going to be hell.

Shiori stormed off to the bathroom and jerked her brush through her long black hair, impatiently shaking her side-bangs from her icy eyes. She was so not in the mood to deal with people right now. She was comfortable in her own little bubble, away from the crowd and in her own world. She couldn't allow herself to get close to anyone anymore, not since…

Shiori slammed her brush onto the bathroom counter, knowing that she now had to endure being called the 'new girl' for a while, until her new classmates learned to stay away from her, like her old class did.

_And whose fault was that?_ A little voice in her head said snidely.

Shiori narrowed her eyes to sapphire slits. She did _not_ want to go there.

Pausing only to put on her earrings, she made her way to the living room. Opening her book bag and putting her lunch container into it, Shiori quickly checked to see that she had all the new textbooks she needed inside. Satisfied, she snapped the book bag shut and grabbed the handle, putting her empty mug of tea on the counter and picking up her apartment key.

Shiori slipped on her shoes at the door, and stepped out. Locking the door behind her, she strode down the hall towards the elevators, pressing the button with so much force that the retarded thing beeped indignantly.

When she stepped out of her building, she felt instantly better with the fresh morning air cooling her flushed face.

As she walked, she fingered her Quincy charm. She had it when she was found on the streets when she was six years old, collapsed with exhaustion and covered with cuts and bruises. She barely remembered the week that she had spent inside the small clinic that had taken her in, everything was blurred and hazy in her memory because of her state at that time. Soon after, she was moved to the local orphanage.

They hadn't known who she was, and she didn't tell them. All she revealed was her name, and that she didn't remember anything of how her life was before they found her.

Which was a lie. But her parents had always told her to keep her powers a secret, to carry on their lineage in silence.

So she did. For them.

Shiori checked her watch, and walked faster. She had ten minutes.

Pink petals drifted down from the sakura trees which lined her side of the street, looking like snow and adding a magical feel to the day. Cars sped along the roads, children laughed and talked as they crossed the street for school. Everything was normal, how it should be. So why did Shiori feel so tense? Her mind was whirring, all the noises around her seemed too loud.

"It's only school, why am I acting like such a big baby about it?" Shiori shook her head, annoyed with herself. And it didn't help when the large high-school building came into view, standing tall and menacing above her.

Shiori felt her eyes widen slightly. "Oh…I can't do this…."

Then she bit her lip, angry with herself. She would go through with this. Was she a Quincy or not?

Once she had psyched herself into believing that she was not at all afraid of walking into this new school, she determinedly took a deep breath.

Straightening her uniform and clenching the handle of her book bag more tightly, Shiori held her Quincy charm for a moment, and swallowed.

With that, Shiori strode stiffly towards the double doors of Karakura High, her stomach churning and her head held high.

-OOO-

After the most torturous five minutes of her whole life, Shiori had managed to accomplish many things, some of which she regretted deeply.

She had received her schedule from a tired-looking receptionist who looked like she needed a good strong dose of caffeine. Then, she was stared at curiously by passing students and teachers, causing her to become extremely flustered. She'd also dropped her newly-acquired schedule somewhere along the halls because everyone's stares had been so distracting, had wandered around aimlessly for a few minutes, growing more panicked every second, and……

Was now officially screwed.

"Someone up there must really hate me." Shiori looked up, scowling. "What a wonderful first impression, being late on my first day. Why the heck am I even here, who got me into such a ridiculous situation- oh right, it was me…"

Shiori let out a frustrated breath and banged her head against the wall, seeming as though everyone thought that she was insane already so she might as well go with it. She definitely earned a lot more stares from people who passed her, though the halls were almost completely empty at the moment.

Suddenly, a voice interrupted her. "Hey, instead of beating yourself up you could ask someone for help, ya know."

Shiori turned, blushing slightly. "I lost my schedule."

A girl around Shiori's age stood behind her, grinning, a hand on her hip. "I'm guessing you're a newbie. Don't freak over your schedule, I can totally take you down to the office after first period and get the receptionist to run you another copy."

Shiori relaxed her straight posture a little. She had no intention of becoming friends with this tough-looking girl, but right now she really appreciated the help.

"Thanks. I was beginning to think that I'd just have to wander the halls until I found the right homeroom."

The girl's dark eyes twinkled. "Not today. What's your room number?"

"2-B."

"Cool, you're in my class. I'll show you the way!"

Shiori, who was very much relieved, thanked her again as they maneuvered their way up flights of stairs and down narrow hallways. Finally, Shiori caught sight of her homeroom a few doors down.

Shiori's palm was sweaty from gripping her book bag so tightly. Now, she was to meet her new class. Her eyes stared straight ahead, and her mouth became a thin line.

The girl who had assisted Shiori abruptly slid open the door to the classroom and strode over to a corner where a bunch of girls stood, chatting and laughing. Students sat on desks, some stood around talking about the new movie that was coming out, some compared homework from the night before.

Shiori took this all in, and felt her mouth go dry. _Remind me again why I transferred?_

She stood there uncertainly, feeling some eyes on her but wasn't sure what she was supposed to do.

Suddenly, the door slid open behind her. A slim woman with oval glasses and a thin black ponytail strode briskly into the room, carrying an armful of papers.

"Okay, we have a lot to accomplish today, people. Sit down and be quiet so I can take attendance."

Eventually, the talking ceased to a quiet murmur as everyone shuffled to their desks. Shiori felt even more self-conscious, but she stayed standing stiffly by the door, waiting for the teacher to acknowledge her.

When the teacher had dumped her papers onto her desk and picked up the attendance clipboard, she turned to face the class. She glanced down at the clipboard briefly, before looking up.

"All right, let's get this over with."

_My thoughts exactly. _Shiori silently watched the teacher, she sure didn't want to look at the class….

"For the morning announcements. The girls' basketball team will be competing Thursday in a game against Fujiwara High after school, so whoever is on the team, make sure to practice hard."

"We're so ready!" cheered the girl who had helped Shiori earlier. "Fujiwara doesn't stand a chance!"

The teacher paused to grin at her. "Well, make our school proud, Arisawa. Because I heard that Fujiwara's teams are all excellent players, very tough opponents."

The girl snorted, leaning back in her chair. "Those pansies?"

"Hey, don't get over-confident, Tatsuki." someone warned. "It's bad luck."

Tatsuki rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "Luck, schmuck."

Shiori almost smiled.

"Continuing…" The teacher pushed up her glasses and, for the first time, looked over towards Shiori. Shiori tensed, her mind zooming into overdrive once more. "We have a new student, class!" she smiled warmly at Shiori, who looked back at her numbly. "Why don't you come up and introduce yourself?"

_How about…no?_ Shiori nodded once, and walked up to the front of the room with measured steps. All eyes were focused on her now, and she willed herself not to freak out. She glanced around desperately for something to focus on, and settled with staring at some guy's bright orange hair. What a unique color. Shiori vaguely wondered if it was dyed before finally addressing the class.

"My name is Sorano Shiori." she began, pleased that her voice wasn't shaking. "My hobbies are reading, drawing, sewing, and martial arts. I look forward to this year…" _Not...._ "It's nice to meet all of you." Shiori gave the class a formal bow, dark hair falling forward. When she looked up, some students shouted greetings, while others simply nodded.

"And we look forward to spending the rest of the school year with you as part of the class, Shiori." smiled the teacher. "I am Miss Ochi. You may get acquainted with the class during second period, which is a study hall."

Shiori inclined her head to the teacher, and waited for Miss Ochi to tell her where to sit.

"Hm, let's see…you may take that seat over between the window and Kurosaki Ichigo. Now, I shall begin class. No talking."

And with that, Miss Ochi turned to face the blackboard and began writing on it feverishly with a broken piece of chalk, beginning her lecture. Shiori walked calmly to her seat, eyes focused on the empty seat beside the teen with the bright hair she had been focusing on earlier. He shot her a sort of crooked smile, and she offered a tiny grin in return.

Suddenly, without warning, she felt a flare of spirit energy take over her senses. She gasped softly, shuddering at the intense power of it. But as soon as the feeling had washed over her, it was gone.

Shiori glanced around, head throbbing and hands shaking. Whose-

She looked suspiciously at the lean boy beside her. If he had let out that insane burst of energy, he certainly wasn't aware of it. He just continued doodling on a piece of paper with his textbook opened up in front of him so that the teacher wouldn't notice.

Shiori slid quietly into her seat, taking out her textbook and just barely resisting the urge to throw it at a brown haired guy who was currently ogling her shamelessly.

Instead, she serenely opened her bag and took out a pencil and her new notebook. Opening her textbook and flipping to the page which Miss Ochi had scrawled on the blackboard, Shiori proceeded to take notes, follow along, and otherwise ignore the occasional stares of the students around her.

-OOO-


	3. Eyes of Ice

Yes, the ShadowThief is ba-ack!

I hope you all can forgive me for not updating in so long, the little problem I had called writer's block has only just dissapated. I'll try to update more often, but you know me, I just don't do well with deadlines and I'm the hugest procrastinator ever. I've gotta work on that...

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**Eyes of Ice**

Shiori mentally sighed. Her first class was almost over, merely five minutes until the bell was supposed to ring. She had gotten through almost one complete class in Karakura High…and already she was dreading the rest of the year.

"All right, class. We've covered the material needed to complete the homework for tonight-" Multiple groans cut her off. Ms. Ochi rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, it's not like I give you tons of homework. Just do it, okay? Page three hundred, answer questions five through twenty-three."

Still griping, the class reluctantly wrote it down in their assignment books as the bell rang painfully in their ears.

"Class dismissed." Ms. Ochi said cheerfully. "Oh, will you come up here for a minute, Shiori?"

Shiori glanced up and reddened slightly when the attention was shifted upon her once more.

"Y-yes, of course." Shiori gathered her things and shoved them into her bag, leaving the bag on her seat. She wove her way through the students who were putting their things away, the talking beginning again.

Shiori came up to the teacher's desk, her fingers twisting together. Ms. Ochi grinned kindly before producing a paper from the pile on her desk. "I wanted to give you two things, Shiori. First order of business…"

She handed the paper to Shiori, who glanced down at it, looking puzzled. Then, she brightened. "My schedule!"

Ms. Ochi laughed. "I found it lying in the hall when I was walking up here. I certainly thought that you might need it."

"Oh, thank you so much! And the other?"

"The other is…well, I'll just let you read it yourself. Bring it home for your parents to sign, and then bring it back and I'll-"

Shiori looked down. "I have none."

Ms. Ochi glanced at her, confused. "Have….none?"

Shiori took a deep breath. "My parents are no longer living."

Ms. Ochi looked at Shiori for a minute, silent. "I…I'm sorry."

Shiori looked up, giving her teacher a weak smile. "It's all right. They passed away when I was six, I live by myself now."

Ms. Ochi watched Shiori with compassion and seriousness. "Then you may have any caretaker or older family member to sign it instead."

Shiori almost winced. What a joke. The Quincy race was lost, eliminated for eternity……

"I have no living relatives, nor does anyone care for me. I pay my own bills, and I come to this school on scholarship…." Shiori trailed off.

Ms. Ochi struggled to conceal the shock on her face. She didn't know which was worse, the things that the poor girl was saying, or the matter-of-fact tone that she said them in.

"I will speak to the principal about your situation." she finally said, picking up her papers. "In the meanwhile, read the sheet, okay?" Ms. Ochi glanced at Shiori once more in sympathy.

Shiori looked away. This was exactly why she kept her personal life a secret, only telling all of this when she had to. She hated pity, and she hated the looks on people's faces when she was required to tell them her story. Well, some of it, at least.

"Thank you, Ms. Ochi." Shiori forced an obligatory smile. Ms. Ochi raised a hand, and walked out of the room.

Shiori clenched the sheet of paper in her hands, crinkling the sides a little. Then she turned on her heel and stalked off back to her seat, burying her head in her arms and giving a weary sigh.

-OOO-

Ichigo Kurosaki leaned back in his seat, watching the new girl as she introduced herself to the class. She looked kind of rigid to him, as if she would rather be anywhere but in the spotlight.

Hmph. He knew just how she felt, his orange hair always causing eyes to locate him immediately in a crowd…

He followed her cerulean eyes, which wandered around the room before settling on Ichigo's hair.

_Including hers, apparently._

She bowed low for the class. Oops, he'd missed the name. Ah, well. It wasn't like he'd remember it, anyway. That had always been an issue for him….

Just then, he realized that this new girl was to sit beside him. So he did what was natural for him, he shot her a welcoming grin and he received a ghost of one in return.

Ichigo studied her briefly. She seemed kind of...distant to him. Like her mind was elsewhere.

Not that he really cared. Ichigo turned his attention from the new girl back to his textbook. The words swam before his eyes.

_Gah, I'm so tired….Rukia's really been making me work my butt off lately…_

He inwardly groaned. As a shinigami, it was his duty. Sometimes though, he wondered whether it was really worth it. Sure, it was great saving people and getting stronger and all, but his friends were getting more and more suspicious. Keigo and Mizuiro, for example. They would not leave him alone about the whole 'Ichigo spends _so_ much time with Rukia' theory.

It wasn't as though he had a freaking choice!

"Oi, Ichigo!" whispered a voice behind him. "_Ichigo!_"

He cursed under his breath before turning his head a fraction of the way towards the urgent feminine voice. "What?" He hissed, trying not to attract the teacher's attention.

Rukia Kuchiki bit her lip in annoyance at his tone, the morning sun from the window reflecting slightly off her dark hair as she tilted her head towards him. "Stop with the attitude, already! I have an order." She flashed the glowing screen of her phone towards him from under her desk.

Ichigo clenched his fist under his desk. "Now? What am I supposed to-?"

"Just go! Say that you're going to the bathroom or something, I don't care! It's pretty strong, don't underestimate-"

"I know what to do, already! Jeez, always at the worst possible times…" Ichigo muttered to himself, psyching himself up for the fight. Now he was starting to sense the hollow as well, and it felt powerful all right. Unconsciously, he fluctuated his reitsu, not really having full control over it quite yet.

Rukia flinched as the strong spiritual wave passed over her. "Stop that! Ask the teacher if you could leave for a minute, and then I'll follow you."

Ichigo nodded somewhat reluctantly, raising a hand. For the good of the people, right? But it bothered Ichigo that he was getting so used to obeying Rukia's every command. She _was_ more experienced, it was true, but did that mean that she had to act so condescending? He wasn't her _servant_, for the love of-

"Yes, Ichigo?"

"Eh…" For a minute, Ichigo forgot what he was supposed to be asking, he was so preoccupied with his thoughts. But a piercing 'get on with it' glare from Rukia soon refreshed his memory. "Uh, can I be excused? Bathroom."

Ms. Ochi sighed. "Whatever." And Ichigo pretty much sprinted out of the room.

Well, there was an added bonus about this soul reaper gig, getting to miss class.

Soon after he reached the grounds below, Rukia came lightly pattering down the steps outside the building, pulling on that creepy red glove.

As she rammed the heel of her palm through his forehead, he felt that familiar strange sensation, a sort of stretched feeling and a pressure about his limbs. His eyes rolled back into his head, and for a second, he didn't know who he was.

Finally, he was free of his physical body and clad in a shihakusho, his sword in hand. "Where is it?"

Rukia checked her phone once more after shoving Ichigo's body behind a cluster of bushes by the entrance. "It's supposed to attack in about five minutes, outside some bar on Komatsu. If we hurry, we'll be done with this before class ends."

Ichigo shot her a crooked half-smile. "Well, that sucks. In that case, I'll make it last as long as I can."

Rukia shook her head sternly. "You won't. Unless you want to die."

Ichigo rested his zanpakutou across his shoulders, an all-too-familiar glint in his eyes. "It was a joke, Rukia. But for the record, this hollow scum is going down in way less than the fifteen minutes left of class."

-OOO-

Study hall. Finally, a time to organize her scattered thoughts and think about her priorities.

Shiori shut her notebook, having filled a good five pages with detailed notes. She had been the top student in her old school, and she didn't intend to change that. As she put it away, her eyes fell upon the sheet of paper which Ms. Ochi had given to her. Sighing, she picked it up.

Her eyes scanned the neat text, cliché bolded phrases jumping out at her such as 'a wonderful experience for the entire family', and 'catered by the best Korean BBQ restaurant in Karakura'. What the heck?!

When she reached the end, it told the date and place of a traditional hanami which Karakura gave for all its schools. Oh. Well, it _was _cherry blossom season, after all.

Shiori stuffed the nuisance into her bag, none too gently. Besides being in no mood to deal, she had not gone to those kinds of things since…since….

Suddenly, the door banged open, and a panting orange-haired teen burst into the room, a petite raven-haired girl following closely behind, looking ruffled.

"Keigo!" the guy shouted across the room. "Is Ms. Ochi already-?"

The brown haired guy he was addressing looked up from his conversation with a fellow student. "Ichigo, she's long gone, dude. Sorry, but you came too late from…." he glanced at the raven-haired girl and smirked. "…from whatever you were doing."

Ichigo flushed, scowling at the grinning Keigo. "You-!"

"S'okay, man. We all know your dirty little secret."

"YOU'RE SO DEAD!"

Shiori winced as a minor brawl took place, the majority of the class surrounding them and cracking up. Shiori glanced around, seeing that the only ones who were actually in their seats were herself, and one other student. Shiori appraised him, not really knowing why.

He had a slender build, the kind you would underestimate if you would happen to meet him in some dire circumstance. Yet she could see the muscles in his arms when he shifted his position, hard to notice with the uniform's loose sleeves. He held a novel in his ivory hands, paying no attention to the chaos around him.

_Seems like I'm not the only one here who hates being social._ She thought wryly. Maybe Shiori should take a leaf out of this guy's book and just ignore them all…not that she hadn't been doing that already, but-

"Oi, new girl! C'mere!"

Shiori closed her eyes at being addressed thus, but when she opened her eyes she saw none other than Tatsuki waving her over to the tightly knit circle of teenage girls where she was standing.

Well, it wouldn't hurt to be just a little friendly, would it? It was her first day, no new unexpected bonds were going to be formed this soon. Shiori shrugged and walked over to the girls.

"What was your name again? I forgot!" exclaimed a bubbly girl with orange hair. _Hm, this makes two with unusually colored hair in this class. Interesting._

"Sorano Shiori." Shiori found herself focused on the girl's teal hair accessories, cute little flower clips which Shiori could somehow _not_ picture herself wearing. They suited this girl though, the barrettes glistening in the fluorescent lights of the classroom. Shiori narrowed her sapphire eyes to slits when she felt some sort of energy coming from them, one she didn't even come close to recognizing. What…?

"I'm Orihime Inoue, and I hope to become good friends this coming year!"

Tatsuki grinned, throwing an arm around Orihime. "A little overenthusiastic, but she has a good heart. Now Shiori, I've got to introduce you to the rest of the gang." And as Shiori watched and nodded, Tatsuki introduced every one of the girls to her, Shiori forgetting a lot of the names as they kept going.

"You, um, said that you liked sewing, Shiori." piped up a petite Michiru, who sat on a desk, swinging her slim legs. "You should take sewing with me and Orihime! It'd be fun!"

Shiori, despite herself, found herself interested. "There's a sewing class you could take here? In my old school, we never had anything like that."

"Your old school didn't have any clubs or electives or anything like that?" Tatsuki asked her, eyes widening. "How boring."

"Tatsuki!" Orihime's delicate orange brows knit together. "That wasn't very nice-"

"Come on, Shiori doesn't look like she was too fond of that old school of hers anyway, Orihime." Tatsuki glanced at Shiori guiltily. "Are you?"  
"Not really." _You're wrong about one thing, Tatsuki. It's schools. Plural._

"Anyway…" Michiru said awkwardly, clicking her heels together. "Would you join? The sewing class, I mean."

Shiori eyed the pixie-like girl. "Depends. I have to concentrate on my studies, but if I get the work I've missed so far done, then maybe I can. You said that you and Orihime attend?"

"Yes. And Ishida-kun, he's the real shining star in that class!" Orihime spread her arms up over her head, looking towards Michiru for confirmation.

Michiru answered by pulling out a rather ugly pink doll from her bag. "See this?" She held it out towards Shiori.

Shiori gingerly took the…_thing_ before examining it. "I don't see anything wrong with it." She inspected the stitching from top to bottom, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Michiru raised a finger. "And there you have it! He's a genius!" She beamed.

Shiori paused at a certain spot. "Wait…there's a different kind of stitching here. Is this where it was mended?"

Michiru giggled. "Yup."

Shiori ran her fingertips delicately over the top. "I could hardly tell that it was even torn to begin with." she whispered. "Amazing."

Shiori looked up at Michiru. "Who mended this?" she asked abruptly. Tatsuki jerked her head in the general direction of the right side of the room. Shiori once again laid eyes upon the teen with the ivory skin, he still held the novel and was turning pages swiftly and silently.

"Ishida Uryu," concluded Tatsuki, yawning. "A guy who's totally out of it, never talks about himself. Not that I really care."

Orihime pouted at her friend. "You're mean, Tatsuki-chan! He's probably nice once you'd have a chance to get to know him."

"Which will probably be…never?" Tatsuki grabbed Orihime by the arm, leading her over to her desk. "Chizuru just came back from the restroom, c'mon we've gotta hide you."

And amidst the squeals of "It has been so _long_, my sweet 'Hime!" and yells of "It's only been five freaking minutes, back off you moron!" Shiori stood in the middle of the classroom, surrounded by desks and completely unaware of the chaos. She watched intensely as this newfound sewing master called Ishida Uryu pushed up his glasses with a slender finger, making his lenses shine a blind white.

But for a split second, she'd gotten a glimpse of his eyes. She was frozen on the spot, reeling from the intenseness of it all. Dark sapphires, cold and distant, like they were cut from the stone itself. In that brief moment, Shiori had discovered more than she would have guessed.

She felt a connection when she saw those eyes which were so much like her own. This Uryu…his eyes were that of one who has been through hardships.

_He knows pain. _Shiori reflected, a short dizzy spell overcoming her so she had to grasp onto a desk for support. He had seen death.

"Hey, new girl."

Shiori turned slowly. Besides for being broken out of her deep reverie, if one more person called her that, she was going to seriously _kill_ someone. "Yes?" She asked through clenched teeth.

It was that brown-haired guy, Keigo something. He looked at her sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, do you wanna eat lunch with us later? You know, like a welcome to the school kinda thing."

Shiori stared at him incredulously as he grew redder and redder with each passing second of the uncomfortable silence. "You…uh, don't have to if you don't want to, that is, if you feel like it…" he trailed off into nothingness, becoming extremely interested in a name etched into the wood of the desk he was standing by.

In truth, Shiori didn't know what to say. It was strange that these students were just so _friendly_, like they really wanted her to feel welcome. It was more than she could say for all the other schools she'd gone to.

She realized that he was still standing there, unsure of what to do next and waiting nervously for an answer. She was making him tense, she knew. Her eyes tended to have that effect on people.

The words that came out of her mouth shocked both Keigo and herself.

"Yes." she whispered. "Thank you."

-OOO-


	4. Quintessence

I wanted to stop writing this story, but I decided to keep going. I know it's been awhile. I admit that you stumped me for a little while LittleKittyShaoMao, but I came to the conclusion that I'm just going to go ahead with the story even though I overlooked that little piece of info. Thanks so much for telling me though, and I'm glad you like the story. Sun, your review also spurred me forward. I wrote this with you two in mind. And thank you to my other reviewers, your words gave me the push I needed to complete this chapter. Thanks! :-)

Another thing that I'd like to say- The Sei Ya in this chapter is of my own creation, and a lot of things here are only what I _pictured_ to be in relation to the Quincy race. Don't steal them.

-ST15

* * *

Chapter 4: Quintessence

As soon as Shiori had unlocked her apartment door and thrown her school things onto the coffee table, she stalked off to the bathroom and twisted the knob to turn on the bath.

It was one of the places where Shiori felt at peace, temporarily relieved of the stress and responsibilities that came with living alone. Speaking of which, she needed to go grocery shopping soon.

She had an hour until she had to go to work. Shiori thought that some relaxation was in order.

She lowered her head, unzipping her uniform skirt. Maybe she _had_ made the right choice by transferring. The students seemed pretty nice, friendly and welcoming. And there was a sewing class she could attend, this would definitely make her days at Karakura more enjoyable…more bearable.

Pausing to blow a stray lock of hair from her face, Shiori stared into the mirror. She gave up trying to unbutton her shirt and glared deep into the azure eyes of her reflection.

She was suddenly disgusted with herself. What was she _thinking_? A sewing class? Was that her real priority at the moment?

Being with all those other students, talking with them, going to the same classes. It almost made her feel like one of them.

Shiori attacked the troublesome buttons once more. As much as she wanted to pretend that she was just a schoolgirl, living a normal life and having _friends_, she knew that she was only kidding herself.

Shiori was anything but normal. There was somewhere she was supposed to be, she could sense it. Somewhere where she would truly feel at home. But for now, that place was just a fantasy.

Her parents were gone, along with the rest of her family. She was stuck living in the human realm, at least for now. It was hard not to feel a sort of…resentment towards her parents for leaving her here to fend for herself, not leaving any clues as to what she was supposed to do.

What was her _purpose_? She knew deep down that it was ridiculous to be upset at her parents, it wasn't their fault that they were brutally killed for no reason.

Shiori's hands shook as she removed the rest of her uniform and turned off the bath.

She just didn't know anymore. Her mind was in chaos, a whirl of colors and sound. She couldn't even know for sure whether to blame the shinigami for her parents' deaths. After all, it was a shinigami who saved her.

Maybe he had a guilty conscience. But no, the gentleness and emotion in his voice was genuine. Shiori couldn't remember so much his looks, it was the kindness that stood out. A warm, heavenly voice that erased her fears and consoled her. Offered her a safe haven from the hell that life had become.

But when Shiori really got down to it, who could she trust?

Steam spiraled off the glassy surface, ripples marring the perfect water as she slid into the tub. And yet……

It was the Quincy race who had disrupted the balance of the universe to begin with, Shiori found this out on her own. She'd heard the Elders dispute about it when she was younger, and they didn't realize it then. But she didn't fully understand what had been said until she thought back on it when she was much older.

Shiori tilted her head backwards, wet hair dripping on the edge of the tub. She closed her eyes, lost in the memories.

Her ear was pressed upon the sleek wooden door of the meeting house located in the Sei Ya, the Field of Stars. The dewy grass swayed in the night breeze, and Shiori could hear the chirping of unseen crickets.

The shinigami had ordered them to lower their bows, to stop killing the Hollows, for the consequences would be severe.

At first, the Elders thought that the shinigami were threatening them, giving them an ultimatum. This, Shiori reflected, was when one of the younger council members stood up to speak.

Her father.

"If I may…" He inclined his head at the figure sitting at the head of the table, who nodded wearily. "These are my views. I don't believe that they wish to begin a war, nor do they mean to threaten us."

"What utter nonsense is this, man?" Another member seated opposite him looked incredulous. "Of course they want us to stop, they've been seeking our demise ever since we began to channel our reitsu through our bows. They resent that we've come up with this more complete, I daresay more _satisfying_ way to eradicate these…" he made a contemptuous noise. "_Hollows_."

"Please, hear me out." Shiori's father had patiently listened to the man, but now he needed to make his opinions heard. "They must have a reason for telling us to stop, and I think we should obey. At least, for the time being, until we find out what their true motives are."

It was considered. Shiori's father was loyal and trustworthy, many respected him and his opinion wasn't disregarded. Much time was spent deciding what their reaction should be, whether or not it was dangerous to ignore the message completely.

A vote. A decision. Shiori's father arrived home that night tired and defeated, not answering Shiori's persistent questions. Only one question he answered, and even then it had taken her a long time to perceive its meaning.

She was but a child, after all.

The bloody war, and then the orphanage. Shiori couldn't stop puzzling over the last words her father spoke that moonless night. But when she finally put the pieces together so many years later, she realized what her father had meant to tell her.

"_Don't seek to blame others, Shiori. Chances are, they have their own reasons and only want to secure the well-being of the ones they protect."_

More droplets of water fell onto the clear surface of the warm bath. But this time, the drops were salty and bitter.

-OOO-

Shiori left her apartment with a feeling of unease. She didn't know why she suddenly felt so cold.

It was a warm afternoon. A soft breeze blew through the tree limbs, making them whisper secrets as Shiori walked by in a daze. Her eyes stung a little, still sensitive to the air because she had cried so much. The last time she'd reminisced so of the life she lived before the orphanage was too far away to recall. Maybe that new school was unlocking her emotions.

Shiori stopped walking, pressing her fingers into the strap of her bag until her knuckles turned white. She could not allow that to happen. Emotions were a sign of weakness. Sentimental fools who wore their hearts on their sleeves…they had no path to walk upon. They are always taken advantage of.

It was something she'd learned a long time ago.

Shiori quickened her pace. Whenever she really needed someone to talk to, there was never anyone to listen. All of the things she felt day after day were always kept bottled up inside. Shiori knew that one day, something might happen to shake the bottled up emotions deep within her. And when that day came, who knew when the cap she usually kept tightly shut might burst open. And the bottle would fizz over.

Shiori didn't know what she would do then. So she just kept hoping that maybe she would be able to find some sort of escape. A haven. Her mind told her over and over again what she refused to believe.

_You aren't going to accomplish anything by staying in the human world, are you? If you want to find some answers, then search. But just not here. There is nothing for you here._

Shiori always shoved those thoughts into the furthest depths of her mind before they could take root and grow, branching out before she could stop them. There was something about this town. She had a gut feeling that if she stayed long enough, then she would find what she was looking for.

_There is nothing for you here…_

Shiori squeezed her eyes shut, pressing forward. She was almost to the shop. It would do no good to start over-thinking. She already had somewhat of a life here. Now if she could just hang on a little while longer, just a little longer.

_Nothing._

-OOO-

The door jingled as Shiori let herself in, the miniature chimes that hung in an arch by the door tinkled out an angelic welcome as they always did. Sunflower Seams was a cheery little place.

Of course, the shop was based off of the owner's personality.

The goods, such as spools of thread in a fabulous array of colors, bobbins, needles, even whole sewing machines were all displayed in a casual yet artistic manner. There were packets of ready-threaded needles arranged in a big flower shape on a little round table that had a vibrant knitted tablecloth draped over it. The sewing machines all had hand-sewn covers slipped over them, with different scenes depicted on each one. Those were sold separately, of course.

The scenes were gorgeous settings such as a crescent moon hovering over a silent pond at night, autumn leaves dusting the rich earth, an ocean sunset, a silvery wolf howling. The pictures looked so real, so alive, that Shiori always felt that she could just reach out and _be_ there. There with the waves of the sea lapping at her feet, there touching the wolf's shining fur and listening to his mournful howl…

"Hey, Shii-chan! You could have told me you were here already!" A clear voice that Shiori knew very well by now shook her out of her reverie. Shiori hastily removed her hand from the sewn wolf. The wolf was silent once again. The magic was gone.

"Oh, you were looking at the wolf, huh? That one's actually my favorite." The tinkling laugh came from right behind Shiori now. The laugh that sounded much like the mini chimes that the owner had handmade. It was the owner herself who was speaking now, and Shiori whirled around to greet her.

"Ito-san. I haven't seen you in days. It feels like longer."

Shiori always felt on her guard around Ito, her boss. Ito was so artistic, so creative. If you weren't careful, she'd suck you into her world and then no time would pass. All time would pass. Ito was the cause of many late nights for Shiori. But Shiori couldn't help it. Ito was like a breath of fresh air. You just needed her around, because when she was by your side, life held so much more meaning.

"Shii-chan, I told you to call me Ito. We're familiar enough that we need not bother with _titles_. Piff. They're useless things anyway. Just waste time and words."

Shiori raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Words?"

"You know, one has only so many words that they have to say in their lifetime." Ito left it at that.

Shiori also felt that a lot of the time, she had no idea what the heck Ito was on about. But she played along. Or else she would lose her job. And that would be bad.

"I always thought that the wolf looked kind of desolate. Maybe grief-stricken. I guess that's the emotion I had in mind when I sewed it." Ito stared at the wolf a moment, lost. "His howl is mournful. I think that only those people who have really known pain in their lifetimes could hear it. Only those people who have suffered could hear that howl, don't you think?"

Shiori looked deep into Ito's catlike green eyes, narrowing her own. It seemed at times that Ito knew exactly what Shiori was thinking. It was almost scary. And that sent Shiori's invisible shields rising up before her in protection, hiding her secrets from view.

Ito was standing behind the counter, watching Shiori with that grin of hers that looked mischievous and conniving no matter what Ito was thinking at the moment. Shiori felt a surge of affection for her quirky boss. It was Ito who'd always kept Shiori from falling apart on the verge of collapse.

"All right, what should I do first?" Shiori tugged on her deep blue Sunflower Seams hoodie. Ito believed that aprons were tacky and cliché. So every time a new worker joined the shop's little group of employees, Ito ordered a hoodie for them in the color of their choice, free of charge. It just further proved Ito's independence, individuality, and strong defiance against the norm.

Ito pushed up the sleeves of her own lime green hoodie, silver bangles clinking into one another. "We've just gotten a new shipment in. Would you please get the boxes from the back and lay out the goods? We're re-opening in five minutes."

"Sure." Shiori started making her way to the back, expertly maneuvering her way through the maze of vivid merchandise all laid out on different shaped tables and carved shelves. Shiori pulled back the strands of heavy beads that hung down the doorway leading to the storage room, and slipped through, leaving the multihued beads to clash together again with a satisfying clinking.

"Let's see…" Shiori surveyed the mountains of boxes of all shaped and sizes. no doubt filled with the many odds and ends Ito constantly sent in for. "I think it was the fine new thread from Kojima Inc." She searched until she found the pile of four boxes stamped with Kojima's logo of 'Kojima' with a single needle running thread through the letters. Fitting her fingers under the first box, Shiori lifted it and began carrying it towards the front room again. It wasn't too heavy.

Ito held the beads back for her as she walked through. Shiori happened to glance downwards as she hefted the box onto the counter by the cash register. "Uh…Ito? What are you wearing on your feet?"

Ito, confused, glanced down. "What do you mean?" She was wearing cute fringed moccasins today, soft-soled and beaded with tiny beads.

"I meant your socks." Shiori gestured towards them, trying not to laugh.

Ito looked down again, this time at the socks. One was black and looked innocent enough, but the other was bright purple. Ito shrugged. "I couldn't find matching ones this morning." She shot that grin at Shiori.

Shiori sighed. "You don't care?"

"Nope. I think it looks unique." For a twenty-eight year old, Ito sure acted like a headstrong teenager of fifteen. Shiori kind of liked it. And with Ito's dark jeans with spiral patterns that she'd sewn on herself, her auburn side-braid and her bright personality, it only added to the picture.

Just then, Ito glanced down at her watch. "Oh, it's time to open again. Shii-chan, flip on that sign at the front before getting those other boxes, okay? Ami and Jiroh should be by any minute to help you. I need to write down a few things."

"No problem." Shiori listened to Ito's footsteps fade away before striding to the front window and flicking on the 'OPEN' sign.

At that moment, the door flew open, bringing in the breeze. "Hi! Am I late?" A voice sang.

Shiori walked back to the storage room as Ito poked her head out from her office next to it. "Ami, grab your hoodie and get over here. I have papers I need you to file. Shipping orders and all that."

Ami pouted. "No 'hello'? No 'how are you'? I'm hurt, Ito." She shuffled her black knee-high motorcycle boots with mock gloominess.

"Yes, well, you've got to step up the pace. We can't have Shii-chan picking up your slack all the time." Ito beckoned to Ami. "Hurry, before Jiroh gets here and you start arguing again."

Ami adjusted her white-blond high pigtails. "It isn't my fault we rub each other the wrong way. He's just a brat all the time." She grabbed her black hoodie and slipped it over her red and black ripped top. It half-covered her gauzy black miniskirt.

Shiori could never understand how such a bubbly blonde could ever have such gothic style. People probably prejudged her all the time, looking only at her clothing. But the truth was, Shiori thought she'd never met anyone so happy and optimistic. Except where Jiroh was concerned, that was.

Ami was eighteen. She was apparently very smart, and was accepted into college a bit early. But Ami had a large family, so she wanted to help pay for college herself, which was why she worked at Sunflower Seams. Shiori had heard all about it from Ito, who sometimes could not seem to keep any secrets for the life of her.

Jiroh was seventeen, and didn't give any reasons for working at the sewing shop. Ito didn't feel the need to ask, she never pressed anyone for personal details unless the person gave them willingly themselves. Which proved fortunate for Shiori.

All that Shiori knew was that he and Ami fought like cats and dogs, making her wonder whether they'd known each other before they came to work at the shop.

When Shiori had finished carrying the boxes, she began setting the merchandise into their proper places. Ami was now taking care of a few customers. _The sky is getting dark._ She noted as she finished the first box. Night would fall soon.

And it did. As Shiori laid out the last spools of thread in the box on display at the front window, she noticed the stars. They glittered and winked at her from their positions in the night sky. She spotted a glowing crescent moon. It looked so wistful.

With a slow exhale, Shiori made her way into Ito's office and told her she was finished for the night. Ami looked up from a stack of papers, asking if she should stay a little longer.

"No, you two can go on home. I can lock up for the night after I finish here." Ito waggled her fingers. "Now get."

"I wonder why Jiroh never came today," Ami took off her hoodie and folded it. "Not that I care."

Ito rested her chin in her hand. "I'm sure he had a good reason. I'll see you two on Thursday."

"See ya!" Ami skipped out the door, the bells jingling in her wake. Shiori followed soon after. Before she left, she heard Ito singing under her breath. It was sounded like a lullaby, but the words seemed too melancholy somehow.

"_I wake at dawn, see another sunrise…I feel not alone but my heart tells me otherwise…" _

Shiori shivered. Ito was something else. The way she sometimes read other's feelings…

Shiori grabbed her bag and left, seeing the street deserted before her and the wind starting up again. She began to walk quickly toward home.

Shadows were dancing upon the walls of the alleyways. The streetlights glowed with a soft light. Shiori was instantly reminded of _that_ night. The night she'd been found after that terrifying battle. And that made her scared.

Shiori only heard her own beating heart and her short intakes of breath as she kept hurrying forward towards her apartment building. She only had a few blocks to go.

Just then, she froze. She felt a sudden pressure about her limbs. It was subtle and mysterious, yet she still felt calm. Why? It wasn't a Hollow, she was sure of that.

Then…what…?

Shiori quickly turned her head upward, towards the black velvet sky that was studded with stars. A sudden flash of light caught her attention, burning a glowing trail in its wake. It streaked across the sky, too low to be a shooting star. And as she watched, it flew until it disintegrated into tiny particles of light.

Shiori was trembling. She gripped her arm with her other hand as she willed herself to stop shaking. If that was what she thought it was…

A movement atop a building a few houses before her made her glance that way. It was a slight silhouette of a person, too shadowed to see the face. The figure's clothing rippled in an unseen breeze as the silence reigned once more. And as Shiori strained to see the face, another flash caught her attention from its direction. And before she could react, the shadowy figure disappeared.

Shiori was left alone in the middle of the street, bathed by the glow of the crescent moon.

* * *

~Until next time. ;-)


	5. Void

I finally made another chapter, because I felt kinda guilty I left you all hanging. Be warned, this story is going to get really creative. I'm making up a lot of stuff here. But I'll try by best to keep everyone in character, so please keep reading! ;-D Uryu will make a special appearance in the next chapter, in case you're all wondering. I was getting bored because he wouldn't show up already, but I think I finally have everything planned out. And for anyone who's into Death Note, here's a general question- are they really making an American remake and having ZAC FREAKING EFRON play Light?!

I sit in my chair with fear and trembling...lolz

* * *

**Void**

Shiori hated soccer.

It wasn't as though she'd _intended_ to come to the game. There were so many things she needed to take care of at the apartment, it was not even funny. The dishwasher was broken, she needed to go buy a few things from the bakery and from the hardware store, and she was tired as hell.

She stayed up late the night before, finishing up an essay she had to do from the beginning of the year…since Shiori just transferred in, Ms. Ochi let her complete it now. And Shiori wanted to excel. She wanted to be up at the top again. She was number one in her previous schools, and she intended to keep it that way for this new school called Karakura. It was only a matter of time before she worked her way up again…she only needed to catch up to the rest of the class.

Which was even more of a reason not to be at some stupid gigantic soccer field, standing awkwardly amongst the screaming people in the bleachers. She was completely out of place, and felt like slugging Asano and the girls who'd dragged her out here in the first place.

"Go, Tatsukiiiii!" The brown-haired idiot himself yelled with gusto. "Show 'em who rules the court!" He punched the air with his fist, letting out a not-so-subtle 'WOOHOOO!' before waving his gray and red flag, the colors of the Karakura team.

"Um…Asano-kun?" A hesitant Michiru ventured. "It's a field, not a court."

Keigo either chose to ignore that comment, or just didn't hear it, which was understandable due to the roaring of the multi-colored crowd and the occasional sharp shriek of the referee's whistle. Mizuiro Kojima, a guy who could send all the girls in Shiori's class squealing with just one vague smile, was cheering with the others. But Keigo was too loud, and would just not. Shut. Up.

He kept shouting right in their ears for all he was worth, making Ryo shoot him a dirty glare from behind the pages of her astronomy book. Shiori glanced at Ryo, who rolled her eyes and said, "Morons…" before returning to her precious novel.

Out of all the people in her class, Ryo was pretty much the only girl who Shiori could relate to. Both loved to read. Both were tall with dark hair. And both were constantly dragged to places by their so-called friends…

Well, it was to support Tatsuki, right? So Shiori would have felt sort of guilty if she hadn't shown up. She still owed Tatsuki for helping her on her first day.

Shiori followed Tatsuki's tiny figure that darted across the grassy field, fast as a cheetah and somehow just as graceful. Shiori admired Tatsuki's skill as she aggressively fought her way to the ball. She and a teammate who had dark hair pulled back into a high pony passed the ball back and forth like pros as they ran towards the opposing team's goal.

Finally, Tatsuki pulled back her leg before kicking it with the side of her cleat. The ball was a black and white blur as it hurtled through the air like a missile, careening past the Fujiwara goalie and swishing into the net.

FWEEEEEET! The whistle was blown, and the entire crowd went wild, jumping to their feet and screaming some Karakura song. Shiori watched in quiet respect as Tatsuki was tackled and punched in the shoulder by her shouting and grinning teammates.

"That was so amazing!" squealed Orihime, who was decked out in the red and gray soccer uniform the whole team was wearing so that she could display her team pride. She bounced up and down with excitement, making the two upperclassmen sitting just a few seats away stare in appreciation. "Tatsuki's the best! Did you see that goal, Ryo and Shiori?" She turned around and saw them both sitting on the silver bench, uninterested in standing up with everyone else. "Come on, you guys! Give a cheer!"

Ryo sighed and sedately placed her tasseled bookmark neatly into the book to mark her place. "I don't cheer. I'll congratulate Tatsuki at the end of the game, what's the point on wasting all my breath now when the game isn't even half over yet?"

Shiori silently agreed with her, though part of her also wanted to freak out just like Orihime. Tatsuki was extremely talented. She'd probably make an excellent Quincy, with that speed.

Shiori lowered her eyes.

-OOO-

"Agh, _wait_! Ichigo!"

"Will you hurry up?! We're late already thanks to your retarded training…"

Rukia narrowed her eyes. "Don't forget, I had been under the impression that you'd done your exercises already!"

Ichigo stopped suddenly on Umeboshi Street, causing an unsuspecting Rukia to crash into him. "Uwaaah!" She stumbled backwards for a moment, caught off guard. She managed to keep herself from falling, glaring at Ichigo's back with snapping onyx eyes all the while. "Ichigo, you idiot! Why'd you stop?"

He raised a finger and opened his mouth as if to say something. Then he thought better of it, and shook his head. Rukia wasn't fooled. "We're lost, aren't we? You don't know the way to the game."

Ichigo raised his arm and rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah. Well. They relocated the stadium and I, uh, forgot where it is."

It took all of Rukia's strength not to face-palm. She sighed. "Do you think you could pick out the spirit energies of your classmates?"

Ichigo closed his chocolate-brown eyes, his focus sharpening immediately. He could make out the tiny pinpricks of light that appeared in his mind's eye. His eyes opened slowly, and he almost felt the soft fluttering of the ribbons which surrounded his form. "I can."

"Where are they?"

After a moment, Ichigo's head snapped up in alarm. "Oh crap."

Rukia stared at his distressed features. "What? What is it?"

Ichigo didn't move, his harsh eyes staring straight ahead. "I sense a Hollow."

Then it came. That inevitable, terrifying sound.

"**GRAAAAAAHHHHH!!**"

Ichigo's teeth were gritting together, his fists both clenched tightly. "And its location is right outside the stadium. Rukia, my friends are all in there." Rukia could feel his spiritual pressure increase, spiking upwards with his rising emotions and deep concern for his friends. Before she could even react, Ichigo had taken off, sprinting ahead at full speed.

Rukia gaped, and ran after him. "Hold on, Ichigo! We don't know the Hollow's strength level and I haven't gotten an order ye-"

Her phone suddenly gave a sharp trill from the pocket of her loose dress. She yanked it out and checked the screen as she ran. Her eyes grew large. "Oh no…"

Rukia looked up wildly, and saw that Ichigo was nowhere in sight. Dammit. He was _always_ rushing into things, never one to think of the consequences. And with the added factor of his friends' lives being at stake…of course he'd charge ahead at full speed.

That Ichigo…he was so infuriating. Rukia scowled and sighed in defeat as she resigned herself to running after the orange-haired menace, something she felt she'd been doing way too often these days.

-OOO-

Shiori raised her icy eyes to the heavens. It was going to rain. The clouds were dark and heavy, low in the sky. She could practically feel the static in the air.

All the players seemed to take no notice, still completely absorbed in the game. But some of the crowd had seen the sky, and were all putting on their sweater hoods. The ones who had watched the weather forecast for that morning were all taking out brightly colored rain ponchos. The crowd suddenly roared again as one. Tatsuki had scored yet another goal.

Her teammates were grinning, ruffling her hair and whooping. Shiori watched Tatsuki's face.

She looked like she was glowing.

Something ached within Shiori. She wished she had something she loved to do and enjoyed…something that would make people cheer for her and ruffle her hair. Just once. But there was nothing. Well, other than sewing, but she was only half-decent at that and it wasn't so amazing. She sighed.

Thunder rumbled suddenly, sounding like the sky had a massive bellyache. The clouds were gathering as the sound shook the heavens. The storm was beginning.

Just then, Shiori sensed a horrible reitsu, one that was all too familiar.

_The air reeks of Hollow._

"**GRAAAAAAHHHHH!!**"

She tensed her body, getting ready to use one of the spells she usually used to eliminate Hollows. She hadn't used her charm since she was nine. But somehow, the aura felt different. More condensed. More powerful. This was no ordinary Hollow.

Now what? Shiori couldn't do anything in this stadium filled with people. Too many witnesses. But what choice did she have? She knew it was her duty. To eradicate the soul-consuming monsters, that was the mission her parents and her ancestors had always accomplished, and it was their responsibility.

There was no choice.

Shiori took a quick glance around- no one was watching her, as they were all immersed in the current action of the game. The Karakura team had just received a penalty shot, but the opposing Fujiwara team was still fighting dirty. A loud roar of protest went up amongst the crowd as Tatsuki, the best forward on their team, was struck deliberately by an unidentifiable cleat on the back of her right calf. The tangle of sweaty bodies on the field made it nearly impossible to see who had done it, but it was enough to make the referee's whistle to shriek piercingly through the crackling, tense air. Tatsuki's team surrounded her before being pushed back by the field medics.

In the confusion and outrage, Shiori was able to slip away from her friends without being seen.

She made her way through the crowd, practically skipping every other stair on her way down and to the exit. She swung around to slam the door open, and was met with a terrifying sight. A drop of rain fell on Shiori's nose. She looked up at the flashing sky. The lightning rippled through the intemperate clouds, and as she watched, sheets of rain were released from the sky all at once. Shiori's clothes were dotted with raindrops, her hair becoming steadily stringy and sopping. She didn't care a bit.

All she was focusing on was the…the _thing_ that stood looming before her.

Huge gobs of glowing green goop were oozing from the creature's skin, releasing an acidic, acrid smell that made Shiori's eyes water and her skin crawl. It had bulbous, sickly eyes that glistened with a slimy sheen every time it blinked. The eyes were the worst. In all different sizes and colors, the hundreds of eyes that dotted the thing's entire body all had eyelids that blinked from the bottom, up instead of the opposite. It had bubbling, waste-colored skin, and its white and red mask was fixed on what seemed to be the lumpy head at the top.

"_Ghhheeehhh…so many choices…I wonder whom I shall prey upon first?_" It released a cloud of poisonous gas from its cavern of a mouth as it laughed, mud slopping onto the grass from its mouth. The grass crumbled into ashes where the substance fell. Shiori cringed, and tried to back away when she realized she'd have to fight it from a further distance. She prayed that it hadn't sensed her arrival yet.

"_And what have we here? A young Quincy?_" The thing hadn't even turned her way. How…? Ah, yes. The eyes. They blinked grotesquely at her, all hundreds at once. Ugh. "_Oooh, that brings back memories, it does. I've been around for a while, ya know?_"

Shiori's eyebrows knit together. 'For a while'? How long was that? Hollows never lasted too long, yet this beast seemed self-assured.

No time to find out. Shiori swung herself up onto the concrete wall by the entrance, balancing on the edge. _'Can I even call upon my bow again? I haven't reached out to it with my reitsu since I was nine years old…but I have to try.'_

Shiori reached into the depths of her mind. That secret place where she kept her reitsu was throbbing, aching to be released after being kept locked away for so many years. She didn't know whether or not to unlock the seal that would cause her to become unfortified. Because once she let her hidden energy go free, she wouldn't be able to hide it as completely anymore.

_Is that a risk I'm willing to take?_

Tatsuki's devilish grin and sparkling dark eyes floated up in her thoughts. Orihime's welcoming smile and bubbly attitude. Ryo's bored gaze. Michiru's cute laugh. Mizuiro's kind smile. Keigo's…well, Keigo.

"_I'm Orihime Inoue, and I hope to become good friends this coming year!"_

"_Cool, you're in my class. I'll show you the way!"_

"_You, um, said that you liked sewing, Shiori. You should take sewing with me and Orihime! It'd be fun!"_

"_Uh, do you wanna eat lunch with us later? You know, like a welcome to the school kinda thing."_

No doubt remained in Shiori's mind.

The particles gathered in her mind's eye, bright and glistening. She basked in the wonderful feeling of her own power, the glow washing over her. She touched her Quincy charm lightly, and flung out her arm.

The bow she'd missed so dearly was back. It glowed, pulsating with crackling energy intensified by the thunderstorm. For some reason, her reitsu always seemed more…_alive_ when it rained. She faced the stinking mass of mud before her, and nocked a blazing white arrow of light.

"Come and get me."

-OOO-

Rukia panted as she reached the stadium, brushing raindrops impatiently from her pale cheeks. Ichigo was slightly ahead of her, and was staring at a gigantic mass of what looked like a dung pile. "Ichigo, don't go any closer."

Ichigo was breathing hard. "It was going toward the stadium just a minute ago. But I think something's distracting it. It's stopped completely."

Rukia grabbed his broad shoulder. "That may be, but it can also still sense us if we get within its range. It's a Mukhai Hollow, a guardian of Hueco Mundo. I'm still trying to figure out why it's here."

Ichigo turned an incredulous gaze towards her. "What do you mean, 'guardian'?"

"It keeps out intruders. Mostly, they just sit around and eat. No one goes into Hueco Mundo these days. They ingest the sand there, taking in the minerals and spitting out the rest. They can sink into the ground and leak out anywhere they want to, which is why it's been so difficult for Soul Reapers to kill them. They're major escape artists." Rukia clarified, not even bothering to keep the disgust out of her voice. "Filthy, stinking beasts. They're responsible for most sewage backups, leaking into houses, eating people's souls…"

Ichigo glared at the thing's soggy back, seeing the rivulets of green ooze cascading down and onto the concrete even from the distance he was from it. "That ball of muck is going down."

"…" Rukia didn't know whether to feel pride or annoyance at Ichigo's unwavering resolve. Or was it stupidity? She glared at him a moment, before yanking on her glove and practically punching him out of his body.

"OUCH! Dammit, Rukia! That hurt!" Ichigo rubbed his throbbing jaw in irritation, clad in his black shihakusho.

"It was meant to." Rukia barely kept a smirk off her face. But then she sobered. "It was a wakeup call- don't be overconfident, Ichigo. Just be as quick as you can, and go straight for the head. Don't prolong it."

Ichigo rested his gleaming zanpakuto across his shoulders. "You don't need to tell me that. I already know."

"…be careful."

Ichigo studied her serious face, before allowing a slow crooked grin to spread across his face. "What does that mean?"

And before she could say anything else, he'd leaped off. She shook her head, clutching one arm with her other hand like she always did when she was anxious. She shivered in the cold, howling wind. "Really, I don't know what to do with him anymore."

-OOO-


	6. Sanction

Yo! I'm back, my writer's block is gone (for the next two chapters, anyway...) and I owe a very big thank you to all of those who reviewed...thank you for being so patient! SeEmYaWeSoMeNeSs, I wrote this chapter partly for you. You gave me the heart and soul I needed- so give yourself a high-five. I'm serious. Do it now, right in front of the computer, because I can't give you one. I'll see it, trust me.

Oh, and I know I'd said that Uryu would make an appearance. Well, I lied. That's next chapter. Sorry.

So. Here we go again. This chapter's a bit long, as an apology to all of you who I've kept on a cliffhanger for so long. Hang on, cuz it's gonna get messy!

* * *

_Death is the sanction of everything the story-teller can tell. He has borrowed his authority from death._

_-Walter Benjamin_

_

* * *

_

**Sanction**

Ichigo shielded his eyes, skidding to an abrupt halt in the gooey grass closer to the Hollow.

A brilliant white light was coming from the direction of the stadium entrance, and he was unable to look at it directly without his eyes watering. "Geh. I can't see anything! Where's the Hollow, dammit?!" He struggled to open his squinting eyes. All he could see was blurry outlines of the Mukhai, and what seemed like a solitary figure of a person a little ways behind. Was somebody else already fighting it? Or…has the Hollow trapped them in? He wasn't sure.

He heard a sudden crash of thunder rattle the skies. The low rainclouds that he'd seen earlier were now heavy, dark, and ominous. It was beginning to pour, sheets of rain breaking free from their confines and causing a mist to form in the air.

Rain.

Ichigo hated the rain.

Every time he saw the skies relinquish their burden of water, it brought Ichigo memories that he would rather not dwell upon.

At the worst times of his life, it always seemed to be raining. It rained when he got lost in the zoo when he was four. It rained when he was beaten up after school one day, left bleeding and bruised in a deserted side-street. He'd had to limp all the way home after he woke up, eyes determined though he winced with every step he took.

It rained…on that day.

_A truck rushes by on a rain-slick road. It splashes a little boy in a bright yellow raincoat, who whimpers and attempts to rub the water from his eyes. His sympathetic yet smiling mother reaches out with a pocket handkerchief, one that she always kept on her in case of such emergencies. The child grins again, eyes happily scrunching up, as he grabs his mother's hand. She switches places with him, making sure that she's the one beside the road._

"_Ichigo! Oh, what a brave boy! Let mommy walk next to the road instead, okay?"_

Ichigo blinked. Now wasn't the time to recollect the past. He set his jaw, brows furrowing deeper. There was a Hollow in front of him, and beyond that, a whole stadium of people who needed his protection. He couldn't afford to let his mind wander.

He heard the gigantic slimy Hollow give a mucus-filled, rasping laugh. "_Heh heh. That's supposed to scare me, huh? Well, I've got just the thing for stubborn ones like you._" It slowly rose up higher, a column of dripping muck, and sucked in a rattling breath. All of its dozens of eyes blinked in a chilling synchronization. Almost immediately, gusts of immensely harsh winds began swirling all around the stadium.

Leaves were blown off their branches, leaving them melancholy and bare, bending with the pull of the air currents. The wind howled as the rain blew ever harder, drenching Ichigo to the bone. He braced himself against the onslaught, rivulets of water running down his face and under his jawbone like tears. The ground was torn up in some places around him, causing the dirt to come up in crumbling patches. Ichigo rose up his arms to shield his eyes, his zanpakuto still in one hand.

The Mukhai paused, as if savoring the chaos it had caused, before blowing outwards.

The wind was sent in the other direction. Trees were uprooted, garbage cans were flung over, and the heavens themselves cracked with thunder as the eerie lightning flashed. The massive stadium itself loomed against the sky, and Ichigo could faintly hear the whistle blowing. The game was still going on, throughout this oversized storm.

Ichigo gritted his teeth. He was unable to get closer. If he took his feet off the ground, he was sure he'd be thrown so far that he would never be able to do any good at all. He could only watch…and wait.

He clenched the handle of his sword more tightly._ Crap! I can't get near this thing! Maybe when the winds calm down a little, I'll be able to take it down. In the meantime…I hope everyone's okay._

-OOO-

The winds were nearly bowling Shiori over, and it was all she could do to stay on her feet. Her bow was still gathering energy, because of its long disuse. The thunderstorm was certainly helping, however. Little did the Hollow know it, but its modification of the simple storm caused the perfect conditions for Shiori's bow.

Her bow had an enhanced reaction when in the region of lightning.

Why? Shiori knew the exact reason, and still remembered that night vividly. But as for now, her bow was busily collecting shards of the energy from the air, and the longer she waited, then the larger the resulting blast would be. Something told her that she would need more than her normal arrows to defeat this creature.

"Almost…there…!" She muttered through her teeth, urging her bow and concentrating on pouring her reiatsu into it. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she forced her spirit energy to unbearable heights for one been sealed for so long. Her hair, drenched by the rain, whipped across her face. Her clothing was soaked through. The Hollow dripped sluggishly, the rain causing it to become even runnier. The thing opened its cavern of a mouth, ceasing to blow, though the winds still raged around the stadium.

"_Gheh…not deterred by the tempest, I see. We'll have to do something about that._" The Hollow let out a glorping noise as its outsides began to bubble. But Shiori did not allow the beast to have another chance at releasing another one of its powers.

"Maybe another time." She pulled back the glowing bowstring with all her remaining strength, and let it fly.

The blazing sphere of light hurtled towards the Hollow with dynamic speed, and blew its entire top off. When it connected, the Hollow released a terrible, gurgling scream, before bursting into debris of light and dissolving in the atmosphere.

"Ugh…" Now that the Hollow was defeated, Shiori felt her entire body weakening. Her arm dropped to her side, bow returning to its usual dormant state. Her legs shook as she climbed gingerly down from the thick wall, supporting nearly all her weight by clinging to it. _I knew that I'd end up like this. I'm such an idiot. How am I supposed to get home?_

The wind was still going strong as she made her way slowly around the wall in order to follow it down the rain-slick road. No way was she going back into the stadium. How would she explain her destabilized state to everybody? Stomach ache? No… Shiori wobbled, eyes halfway closing. What she wanted more than anything was to just lay down and go to sleep, but she knew that to do so right here was asking for trouble. She forced herself to stay awake, shivering violently in the face of the thunderstorm still going strong.

Just a little further…if she could only get to a pay phone to call a cab, she would be able to make it. Suddenly, the wall ended. Shiori tried standing on her own, but she was growing more and more light-headed by the second. In one swift moment, she was unable to support her weight any longer. She collapsed onto the muddy grass, dirt smudges all over her body…and eyelids drooping.

"Uhn…I've…got to…get up…" She breathed heavily as she struggled to raise herself up with her arms. But all at once, it was too much. Like another time before, then under a flickering streetlight, she surrendered herself to the darkness.

-OOO-

…_It hurts._

…_._

_Where am I? Last thing I remember…I was trying to get home._

_Where is home?_

_Where is it?_

Shiori felt a twinge, just below where her heart would be. A stabbing pain suddenly flared up, like red ink splashed onto paper. Her right arm was burning…steadily blazing with pain like it was on fire. It felt like something was eating away at her insides…everything hurt. She felt a bright light on her eyelids, making her moan in irritation. She just wanted to sleep…sleep forever and not be disturbed.

Tired…so tired…

"Ow…" She mumbled, weakly raising up an arm to shield her eyes from the glare. She had, out of habit, tried to lift the right one. The pain shot up Shiori's arm, making her wince and lift the other instead.

"Man, finally. I didn't think you'd _ever _wake up." A sarcastic-sounding voice sounded somewhere away by her left. "Yeah…about that. I don't think you should be moving anytime soon." A sigh. "I'll go get the boss."

Bare feet padded across the floor, fading away into the distance. The floor…tatami mats, by the sound of them. She was indoors…but where?

Shiori drifted off a little bit again, her head throbbing incessantly. _Ugh... I don't get hurt very often, but when I do, I sure do it right._ She shifted a bit where she lay, realizing that she was actually quite comfortable, once you get past the obvious injuries. A pillow under her head, a soft blanket over her. She felt the sun on her face, and was curious. Shiori mustered up some strength, and forced herself to open her eyes.

Squinting blearily, she blinked until the fuzzy outlines snapped into focus. She was in a plain traditional-style room, completely empty save a small table in a corner and the futon she was currently occupying. The sunlight she had felt was coming from behind her. She turned her head slightly, and saw that nearly the entire wall was taken up by three large panels of window glass, covered with thick wooden slats that served as blinds. The blinds were open, allowing the warm sunlight to filter through.

It was peaceful here. She heard the birds outside, the steady brush of a broom being swept across the ground, and a low murmur of voices. A delicate fragrance of tea drifted in with the subtle breeze, and Shiori found herself slowly relaxing.

"You were out for a long time. A night and nearly a day, though it's undeniably understandable. Those wounds on your arm! It's no wonder you'd collapsed from the pain." A man's lilting baritone floated from the doorway. "Although, I must admit, you heal pretty quickly."

Shiori turned her head to the side so she was able to see the speaker.

The first thought that came to her mind when she saw him was this; _He looks…ageless_. Was he in his late twenties? Thirties? Forties? She had no idea whatsoever.

"Who are you?" Shiori impassively stated, pleased to discover that her voice, at least, was intact.

"Oh! How terribly rude of me. I'm Urahara Kisuke. You're in one of the side rooms of my humble little shop." He flicked open a fan in an easy, practiced motion. "Would you like some tea?"

Shiori blinked at the question, kind of weirded out by his calm manner. He seemed completely at ease, like things like this happened every day. The situation seemed a bit surreal, but the idea of a hot drink was irresistible at the moment. Her throat was dry, and her mouth felt like it had been filled with sand.

"If it's not too much trouble."

Shiori lay there, trying to figure this guy out. This seemingly eccentric and easygoing man…was he putting on an act? He _did_ save her, so he must have something good in him…or did he have some ulterior motive? Yet he had this aura about him that Shiori could not bring herself to trust. She resolved to keep on her guard.

He waved a hand airily. "Oh, it's no trouble at all! I was making some anyway. My assistant, Tessai, will be by in a few minutes." Urahara slipped off his _geta_ and stepped into the room. Shiori stared at him suspiciously. His black cloak looked too much like a shihakusho. And the white diamonds at the foot were extremely familiar.

"So, what is your name? A young lady such as yourself, walking around in yesterday's storm? What were you doing that was so important that you'd risk your health?"

"I was already at the new stadium before it started raining." Shiori flicked her icy eyes back up to meet his, though they were hard to see under the shadow cast by his striped bucket hat. "I was at my…my friend's soccer game." _My friend…yes, Tatsuki is my friend. How strange._

Urahara walked over, and stood right behind Shiori's head, his fan resting gently against his nose and mouth. As she couldn't move at the moment without going through excruciating pain, she was forced to lie still, keeping her face an expressionless mask. He stared down at her, his back perfectly straight. "You went to support your friend? That's very kind of you."  
Before Shiori could answer, a firm knock interrupted them.

"Urahara-san, your tea." A deep voice came from the doorway, and when Shiori turned to look, she saw a muscular man kneeling there, wearing thick glasses and sporting an equally thick mustache.

"Ah. Thank you, Tessai. Just place it onto the table there, along with Miss…" He gazed pointedly at Shiori, who realized she hadn't told him her name.

"I'm Sorano Shiori. It's nice to meet you."

Tessai inclined his head, before picking up the tray he had set beside him and standing up. He was extremely tall, Shiori mused. Tall and muscular…like a bodyguard or something. As Tessai set up the round table with surprising dexterity for one with such large hands, Urahara swiveled around to Shiori again, cloak fluttering.

"Along with Miss Sorano's medicine." Tessai nodded, fishing in one of the many pockets in his apron and pulling out two round white pills. "It's a special sort of painkiller," Urahara told her. "One that Tessai develops himself. And you'll also find the tea particularly invigorating."

Shiori clenched her teeth. "Why are you helping me?"

Urahara gazed at her a minute, and suddenly appeared before her so fast that if Shiori had blinked, she would have missed the movement. He was kneeling by her side in an instant.

"That…" He smirked. "Is a secret."

Shiori's mind went blank. His face was right above hers, so close that she felt his breath on her forehead. Urahara touched the brim of his hat, standing up again. He walked over to the table and retrieved the pills as Shiori sucked in a breath, willing herself to keep her voice steady. "So only you are allowed to ask me questions?"

"Well, it depends on what you ask." Urahara sat cross-legged by her side, the folded and creased cloth of his clothing pooling out around him. "I may not deem it fit to answer some of the questions, but I will certainly answer the others to the best of my ability. Right now though, I suggest you take your medicine."

Shiori stared warily at one of the white pills he held between his thumb and forefinger. It was roughly the size of a pea, only a little bigger. It was perfectly smooth, marred only by the marking on the side that was the kanji for 'endurance'. And underneath that, a number: XXI.

"I assure you, it isn't dangerous in the least." Urahara said in a blasé tone, waving his fan for emphasis. "You'll be glad you took it, trust me."

Trust him? But she hardly even knew him. Shiori didn't trust people so easily, that was the way she was. And even though he seemed harmless, it never made a difference to Shiori. He had learned a few things about her so far in the duration of their discussion, but all she really knew about him so far was his name. He seemed like he was helping her, for now at least, or he would have surely just left her bleeding to death out by the stadium. But he didn't.

Shiori searched his face silently for a moment, before dutifully opening her mouth to receive the medicine. After all he had done for her; she supposed it would be a great insult if she refused- not to mention pretty stupid on her part. This Urahara seemed to know what he was doing, so why refuse help if she would finally get some respite from the throbbing hurt that plagued her every moment?

Urahara kept his eyes on hers as he placed it gently into Shiori's mouth. "Bite it."

Slowly, Shiori bit down on the pill and chewed it up, finally swallowing. It tasted like lemongrass, if anything, and her mouth felt somewhat fresher afterwards. Just then, without warning, a sweep of ice shot through her veins. It wasn't unpleasant; it kind of felt like one would feel after sucking on a strong breath mint and then drawing in a breath or drinking cold water. It felt clean, reviving, and she knew without trying that she was able to move again.

Shiori slowly sat up. She lifted her right hand, the injured one, and only felt the slightest ache run through the limb like a cramp. She flexed her fingers, marveling at the way the pill had renewed her torn muscles and bound them back together. Shiori glanced up, and saw Urahara watching her, a strange expression on his face. She quickly dismissed her uneasiness, knowing the feeling all too well. He was contemplating, but not only just. Every fiber of his being was trying as hard as it could…to remember.

Shiori clenched the fist of her right arm, sure that it was only temporary. She'd seen something like this before- the damaged muscle and tissue needed time to recuperate properly, so this pill not only took away the pain, but held the wounds together as well in order for them to heal on their own. Shiori knew that she would have to keep taking the pills until she was healed. "Urahara-san. Thank you. I know you've done a lot for me, specifically going out of your way to help me. I don't know why, but I won't ask any questions about that. Yet." _Your true intentions have yet to be seen._ Shiori bowed low where she sat, hair falling over her face. She felt something on her forehead as she did, and reached up a hand to see what it was, confused.

Urahara caught her hand, effectively stopping her. "I wouldn't touch that. The bandages are fragile. Your forehead had a nasty gash…maybe you hit your head against something?" He looked appropriately concerned, but Shiori saw through it. He definitely knew something.

"Maybe." She didn't continue the matter further, but looked over at the tea table, almost longingly. Urahara snapped his fan closed, laughing in his airy way, and helped Shiori over to one of the thick cushions that lay on either side.

"Wait a minute." Shiori's head snapped up, suddenly wrenching away from Urahara and glaring at him. "I'm wearing different clothes!" She grabbed a fistful of the beautiful sea green yukata she now wore.

"Don't worry!" Urahara held up his hands, sensing Shiori's fury. "My assistant Ururu changed your clothing. Your other clothes are currently being cleaned and dried- we can't have you going around in wet clothes, can we? It would only make you worse."

Shiori grudgingly unclenched her fists. She _so_ would have hit him if he'd been the one to change her. "I appreciate it. Thank you."

He began to serve the tea, moving in a calm, almost graceful manner. He ladled a scoop of tea leaves from the small lacquered bowl in the middle of the table, and carefully transferred it into Shiori's cup, and then his. He picked up the teapot, pouring the hot water into their cups next. Steam rose from Shiori's cup in a white curl, drifting up and evaporating into thin air. She watched it silently, until Urahara whisked the misting liquid in both of their cups.

"Go ahead, Shiori-san. I won't be satisfied until you've finished the entire cupful." His eyes twinkled at her as she picked up the cup and raised it to her lips. Immediately, she stopped. The smell of the tea had reached her, and she was disturbed by an onslaught of memories.

_Everywhere. The glowing dots of light surrounded her, taking over her vision as everything else was dark with nightfall. The fireflies were floating, the breeze carrying them on their midnight journey over the softly rushing waters…in her little boat, she was safe. She was free to dream, free to allow herself the ease of solitude. The frogs croaked and the bulrushes swayed along with the cool night air. Water lapped against the hull of the small wooden boat, lulling her to sleep…she smiles, eyes half-lidded, as she gazes up at the shimmering stars._

The hint of nostalgia that came with the scent, the wistful cadence of the steam, made her eyes sting. How could a mere cup of tea capture the essence of emotion so well?

"Is there something wrong, Shiori-san?" Urahara glanced over the rim of his own cup at her.

Shiori let the last threads of her thoughts drift away as she closed her eyes, shook her head, and drank deeply. The tea tasted like a summer's night, a sea breeze, a dash of sweet and familiar flavors. Shiori asked Urahara what the tea was called.

He squinted, trying to recall the name of it to his mind. "Hmmm…Fragrance of the Moon, I think. Remarkable taste, no?"

"Where did you buy it from?"

"Ah… we ship it in, uh, from abroad." He said quickly. "It's of fine quality, reserved for my more special guests." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "It's my favorite."

"Mine too." Shiori whispered, but Urahara was now searching for something in his pocket and apparently hadn't heard. She watched as he brought out a little container. Urahara shook it, and Shiori heard the clacking of what seemed to be pills within its cavity.

"These are more of the endurance pills. Take one every five hours or so, until the container is finished. Then you will be completely healed, but you _must_ take it easy until then. No dangerous stunts, got it?" Urahara held her gaze until Shiori nodded, surer now than ever that he knew something of what must have occurred. Maybe he'd seen the explosion?

She looked at him. "I've been patient, but I find that I won't be able to be for much longer. I know only your name, and you refuse to tell me why you've helped me…but I'll find out soon enough. Where are we, anyway?"

Urahara looked surprised by that statement, the one when she said she would find out. He wasn't used to the forcefulness of her voice, and wondered why it was so important for her to know. "We're at Urahara Shoten. I told you that I was a shop owner."

"Oh…" Something had jogged her memory. "I know this place, but only from the outside. I used to pass by here on my way to my old school." Shiori recalled seeing a dark-haired girl sweeping outside on most days, while another kid with a shock of violently red hair would stand by, fooling around and yelling at the top of his lungs. "So you have only two other assistants, besides for Tessai-san?"

"That is correct." Urahara swirled the dregs of his tea around in his cup absently. "Their names are Jinta, the one who first told me you were awake, and Ururu, the one who…er, changed your clothing." He said this quickly, as if trying to avoid her wrath. Shiori nearly laughed out loud. He may act mysterious, but he was accommodating in some respects…and acted like a henpecked husband trying valiantly not to anger his wife, who just asked him if she looked fat in her new outfit. For some reason, this comforted her.

"What do you sell at this shop, anyway?" She asked curiously.

Urahara waved his fan. "Ah, anything from household cleaning supplies to sweets. We've got a rather…_wide_ range of merchandise, here at Urahara Shoten."

Just then, there was a timid knock at the doorframe. Both Urahara and Shiori glanced up to see Ururu standing there with her feet shuffling awkwardly, holding a few folded pieces of clothing. "U-um, I have the onee-san's clothing, Urahara-san…" She trailed off.

Urahara gave her a smile and a nod. "Thank you, Ururu." He beckoned to the girl, and she slipped off her sandals and came in, handing the clothing to Shiori. Shiori thanked her, and Ururu bowed.

"It's nice to meet you, Ururu-san." Shiori responded with a bow of her own. Ururu quickly corrected her.

"No, Miss, please call me just Ururu, if you don't mind."

"Then you must call me Shiori." She said firmly. Ururu smiled a soft smile, and bowed again before waving and leaving the room. Shiori glanced at Urahara, who was calmly finishing off his lukewarm tea. "Urahara, I need to get back to my apartment. I need to-" Suddenly, Shiori broke off in a gasp. "I have to go to work! What time is it?! Oh, but Ito will be so upset at me…today's shift is the busiest of the week!"

Shiori struggled to stand, and Urahara rose fluidly before placing a careful hand on her left arm. "Hey, now. If you strain yourself, then all my hard work will be for nothing." He gestured towards Shiori's other arm, which was wrapped in bandages from bicep to the second knuckle on all her fingers. "Promise me that you will be careful."

Shiori searched his face, from his high aristocratic cheekbones and cut jawline that showed a bit of blonde stubble. He looked…sincere. She felt something bubbling up inside her that was something very close to being impressed, so she quickly busied herself with placing the medicine container in the pocket of her freshly washed skirt and picking up the whole bundle.

"I will. I can take care of myself, you know. I'm not a petulant child." She said as she helped place the tea utensils back onto the tray for Tessai to pick up later. The walked through the store together, passing all of the neatly placed items Urahara had mentioned that they sold. She slipped on the shoes she'd been wearing at the stadium, which were positioned neatly by the door. They were dry from sitting in the sunlight. Urahara lazily walked her to the front, sliding open the rice-paper door and leaning against it.

"Keep the yukata. It suits you."

Shiori paused on the sleek wooden deck. She hesitated, before bowing nearly at a ninety-degree angle. "I'm indebted to you."

Urahara waved a hand. "A time will come when you can repay me. But now isn't the time for that. I thought you were late."

With a yelp, Shiori swiveled around and began to walk down the dusty road at a brisk pace, remembering her promise to Urahara and knowing that running would definitely be a part of 'straining herself'. He watched her leave, and didn't move from his spot for a while. He was immersed in his thoughts.

And it wasn't until Shiori was more than halfway home that she realized…how throughout her entire meeting and conversation with Urahara…he'd never once asked how she had attained her injuries in the first place.

-OOO-

* * *

Wanna review, and stuff? I need motivation~

-ST15


	7. Drive

Hey yo. It's been awhile.

Here, have an extra-long chapter. And guess what? Uryu finally showed up! FINALLY. Jeez, you Quincies and your need to make a cool appearance...

* * *

_"I do not think there is any other quality so essential to success of any kind as the quality of perseverance. It overcomes almost everything, even nature." _

_~John D. Rockefeller_

* * *

**Drive**

"_Ow_, dammit! Watch where you're going!"

"I _was_ watching where I was going! It's _you_ who always has his head in the clouds!" Ami snapped at Jiro, who was wincing and rubbing his arm into where she'd accidentally rammed the corner of the box she was carrying.

"Oh, yeah. That's a good one." Jiro imitated Ami's usual bubbly tone, but added in his own ditzy flair. "Heyyy can I go, like, play in the traffic? It'll be fun!" He stared into space with wide eyes and ran his fingers through his dark hair.

"What the hell? I don't act like that!"

"You actually do, airhead."

Shiori began color-coding the bobbin displays with her left hand, ignoring the pair of them. It was the only thing she could really do at the moment, because she couldn't carry boxes. When she apologized and told Ito that she'd gotten into a little accident and couldn't work to her full potential like usual, Ito fussed over her like a mother, asking whether Shiori needed anything and tried to let her off work for a while until her wounds were mended. It made Shiori's chest clench a little as she calmed Ito down, assuring her that she healed quickly and that she could manage.

Ami had expressed similar concern, and even offered to come over and cook for her if she needed it. Shiori quietly and politely declined. She didn't want to cause Ami any trouble, she had her own large family to take care of. And besides, Shiori wanted to practice doing things with her left hand without any assistance.

Even Jiro, king of indifference, told her sincerely that he hoped she would heal soon. She was touched by everyone's concern, but couldn't help but think to herself that it would benefit her (mental) health in general if Ami and Jiro would just be quieter.

_Bickering, as usual. What a pain._ Especially since her head was throbbing badly. She cast a pleading glance in the direction of Ito's office, where the woman now sat with her glasses on, looking over some financial documents. The door was open, but Ito was looking down, a pen stuck haphazardly into her messy bun and completely surrounded by papers. Her eyes were concentrating on the shipping papers, but somehow, Ito still responded to Shiori's unspoken cry for help. "Keep it down, you two. You're scaring the customers."

Ami gritted her teeth. "Ito, could you please tell this idiot to lay off?"

"Ah, but it's so much fun!" Jiro sang from the storage room. He emerged, carrying three boxes stacked on top of each other without even breaking a sweat, a smirk on his face.

"Show off." Ami muttered, shoving past him to go take her place behind the counter, seeing that a (rather nervous-looking) customer was standing there, ready with his purchases. She began working the register, still mumbling profanities under her breath and slamming the register drawer closed so hard that the machine dinged as if in protest. Shiori willed herself to rise above it all, glancing at the wall clock. Only a couple hours left, including her break, and then she could go home and sleep.

"_Hey._ Hi, hello, come in Sorano!"

Shiori swiveled around, ignoring the way her legs wobbled a bit. She casually gripped the shelf behind her to keep steady. "Yes?"

Jiro observed her with half-lidded eyes. "I called your name three times already. What's up with you?"

Shiori gave him the eye, inwardly annoyed with herself. "Nothing. What do you want?"

"I said," He let out a long sigh, as if merely repeating it would be a serious factor in taking time off his life. "I'm going across the street to buy some food. Do you want anything?"

Shiori stared at him. Come to think of it, she was really hungry. The last thing she had to eat since lunch preceding the disastrous soccer game the day before was the tea at Urahara Shoten. And now it was late afternoon. "Actually, yes, if you don't mind. Would you get a few onigiri, just to hold me until dinner? I apologize, I don't have any money on me right now, but I can pay you back tomorrow."

"Yeah, sure." Jiro turned, shouting to Ito that he was taking his break. She voiced her assent, and he left, door jingling. The store was empty of customers at the moment, and Ami and Shiori took to setting up packets of different-sized needles in their racks.

"Rude." Ami sneered. "He didn't even ask me if I wanted anything. I wouldn't have to like doing it, but I would've asked _him_." She turned towards Shiori. "Shii-chan, I hate being irritated all the time!"

Shiori suppressed a snort. "Then just don't answer him."

"I've tried it all, believe me. I'm starting to get a wrinkle between my eyebrows from frowning so much!" She confided in a serious tone, pulling back her blonde bangs and bending over for Shiori to see. Shiori stared at the spot, seeing nothing but smooth skin.

"Ami…"

"I know!" Ami wailed, oblivious to the fact that Shiori wasn't going to agree with her. "I really need a massage, asap. I heard of this one place in Aoyama that relaxes you like no other. My friend Chizuru from my tennis classes told me about it. Hey, we should totally go together sometime, it'd be fun! I-"

"Wait, wait." Shiori raised her left hand, vaguely recognizing that name. "Her name's Chizuru? What school does she go to?"

"Ummm…she goes to that school with the gray and red uniforms, the one that hosts the traditional hanami festival every year that, like, the entire town goes to." Ami squinted at Shiori. "Why?"

"That's Karakura High, Ami. I go there. Chizuru's in my class."

"Really?" Ami smiled widely, excited. "That's so funny! What a small world! When you mentioned earlier this month that you were changing schools I had no idea that it was going to be Karakura High. Doesn't Ichigo Kurosaki go there?"

Shiori looked at Ami, remembering vaguely where she'd heard that name. "He sits next to me in class. He's the one with the-"

"Bright orange hair!" Ami supplied, finishing the sentence. "And he's always scowling, isn't he?" She twisted her mouth. "I can't imagine how big of a wrinkle _he_ has between his eyebrows."

Shiori thought of Kurosaki's hard brown eyes, and couldn't help but silently agree. "How do you know him?"

Ami looked like she was remembering, a soft look in her blue eyes. "Well, Shii-chan…he was the one who saved my little brother's life."

Whatever Shiori was expecting, it wasn't that. She stared at Ami for a minute, mouth slightly open. "He _saved_-"

Just then, the door chimes jangled once more, announcing Jiro's return. All light of past memories faded from Ami's eyes, annoyance spreading through them instead. She pointedly ignored Jiro as he set a few grocery bags on the high crescent-moon shaped table in the back.

"There aren't any customers at the moment, so you three can eat now." Ito called out, having heard the rustling of the bags and the door. Shiori gratefully received her container of four onigiri in a neat row. He'd gotten her ones with smoked salmon in the center, which she happened to prefer. Shiori thanked him with a smile.

"Hn." He grunted, re-tying his low ponytail before throwing her a can of cold Pocari. She caught it with her left hand almost without thinking. Much to her surprise, only using one hand for small tasks wasn't proving to be so difficult to get used to after all.

"Airhead." Jiro drawled out. "Why are you over there?"

Ami glared at him from over by the needles, her gaze sharper than any of them. "Because I'm doing my _job_."

Jiro stared at her, mildly surprised. "You're not going to eat? Thought you loved your food."

Ami chose to ignore that comment. "No, I don't have anything with me, genius."

Jiro raised an eyebrow and picked up a ready-made bento lunch from inside a bag, waving it a little. "What do you think this is, _genius_?"

"Why do I even waste my time talking to you- wait, what?" Ami looked at the bento lunch he was holding, and then back to meet his bored gaze. "It's for me?"

Jiro looked at her as if she'd gone crazy. "Well, yeah. Unless you want me to eat it. Because I will."

"Wha- but…" Ami spluttered, having been taken completely off guard. "Why…how would you…?"

Jiro stared her down quizzically. "I think I've watched you take your break enough times to know what you like to eat. Why waste my words and ask you?"

Shiori could tell that Ami was still pissed off. Hunger took over, however, and Ami made her way over anyways, only giving the food a little sideways glare before grabbing it from Jiro's hands and muttering a 'thanks'.

Shiori felt like smirking, but decided it would be too out of character.

-OOO-

Back in her apartment, Shiori threw open all her windows and pulled back the curtains, finally collapsing onto her bed. The night breeze fanned over her face, stirring her hair. It felt soothing on her flushed face. She lay there for a while, feeling the slow thrum of her aching limbs. "I'm so exhausted…" She breathed. "It's probably one of the pill's side-effects…"

Shiori forced herself to rise after another minute or two, making her way over to the fridge to take out something simple; an apple perhaps. She wasn't so hungry anymore. It came to her mind that she should probably shower, though she had absolutely no idea as to how she was going to manage it in her current condition. She would have to take a bath, and just be extra careful not to let her arm get wet. Shiori's mouth twisted into a wry smile. _At least I'm training my left arm. It's good to be ambidextrous…like my father was…_

Shiori stared ahead at nothing in particular after she'd settled onto a chair to eat her fruit. She thought about the Hollow attack properly for the first time since Urahara's. It wasn't a normal Hollow, Shiori could sense it. It wasn't the type of monster that voluntarily came out to search for souls; it didn't speak like one that did. It had knowledge of the Quincy race, and seemed to Shiori that it had been around for quite some time. It didn't seem lost, either.

Shiori had the feeling that there was no way this Hollow was _ever_ human.

So where did it come from? The only plausible explanation was that someone must have sent it.

But why? And who was it after in the first place?

Maybe she was thinking too hard about this. Shiori shook her head wearily, getting up to start the bath. She had to heal first. Then if anything else unusual happened, she would investigate.

_And tomorrow_, Shiori reflected, kneeling down by the edge of the tub. _Tomorrow I'll learn to write left-handed. I'll be okay at it by the time I have to go back to school on Monday, so I won't have to ask people to borrow notes._

She looked down at the gauzy white bandages wrapping her arm, and then looked around her. The bathroom door was open so that her bedroom and living room was visible from where she sat. The rooms were empty and still, the only forms that were visible being the sparse furniture.

She was alone.

Shiori lowered her head to bang it lightly on the edge of the bathtub. "I'm an idiot." She muttered, letting out a breath.

-OOO-

_It's happening again. This same dream._

Snow.

…

No, wait.

…

Snow_flakes_.

The glow of a streetlight. It casts a warm yellow light upon the powdery snow that surrounds it, making the pure substance glitter with a subtle and mysterious sheen. The sky is dark, sprinkled with stars…sort of like how the cherry blossom petals scatter upon the concrete by Shiori's apartment in the springtime.

A gentle wind blows. It ruffles the fur-trimmed coat of a tiny girl who stands knee-deep in the snow, watching the flakes fall from above. Her eyes are wide, reflecting the glow of the streetlight as she witnesses the ethereal dance of the twirling flurry of snow around her. The tassels of her deep red scarf flow with the breeze, and her legs begin to grow numb from the cold. She doesn't even notice, as she's so enthralled with the beauty of the frosty dusk.

She begins to twirl about, giggling with exhilaration. White flakes catch in her long eyelashes in an endearing way when she lifts her laughing crescent-moon eyes to the heavens. Her cute little winter hat, topped with a pompom, is nearly covered with the tiny snowflakes.

She trips over a twig buried deep within the snow. Being thrown off-balance combined with having such short little legs makes for a certain result- she falls and sinks into a white mound, smiling all the while.

She sighs contentedly from where she lies, surrounded by a blanket of soft snow.

_Wake up! Wake up, already!_

…

…

…

_Blink._

…

…

…

_Where was I?_

_What was I doing?_

…

_I don't want to keep dreaming._

'_Cause I know what happens next._

-OOO-

Bright and early Monday morning, Shiori glanced at her breakfast plate. Not good. She'd made herself an entire meal that included all the necessary vitamins she needed in order to get well, but she was hardly able to eat anything. She just wasn't hungry.

She sighed resignedly and covered the rest with some foil so she wouldn't be wasting any food. She paused. _On second thought, maybe I'll bring some for lunch…_

While getting out a clean _bento_ and the rice pot, she found that she was still extremely tired. Her hand shook when she struggled with the _bento_ lid, trying to pry it off. She only succeeded in making herself frustrated. _Why am I so weak? I knew the consequences of revealing my bow and getting involved in this world again, yet I went ahead and did it all anyway. I am such a…! _Shiori suddenly felt like collapsing. Waves of black swam across her vision and her head throbbed. She gripped the counter until the dizzy spell passed.

The cut on her forehead was covered by a simple bandaid, having mostly healed, but she must've inhaled some grit in the air when the typhoon took over, because her throat had felt raw and delicate for the past few days. "I-I…I still have to go to school…" Shiori coughed violently, leaning over the sink. "I can't miss anything more if I want to rise up to the top of my class like I was inAihara-Daiichi Institute. I need the scholarships." Shiori muttered quietly, her breathing uneven.

She said all this though she knew, even as she said the words, that it was way more than that. _I need the feeling of being secure. On top. The way it always was._

Shiori ran her fingers through her hair with her good arm, and leaned against the counter. This was going to be all kinds of fun. And…oh, _crap_. What story was she going to give everyone?

She went back to battling with the _bento _lid.

In the end, Shiori decided to let things happen as they went along. That was usually the way she worked anyhow, aside from anything school-related.

When she finished with the lunch, she slid it comfortably into her bag. She would have to buy a drink at the school store.

Once dressed, she left her apartment with the unsettling thoughts of that past Thursday's events rushing through her mind. She placed a hand on the side of her gray uniform skirt, feeling the bulge in the pocket where the little canister of pills was hidden. She'd had to wake up at dawn to take one of the white endurance pills, and would probably need to take another after first period.

She absentmindedly traced her finger over the hard plastic through the skirt material. _Urahara. He's been floating around in my head amidst it all. I suppose he fancies being Mr. Enigma. I should know, of all people, that the air of mystery surrounding a person somehow always gets them the results they desire._

Shiori squinted her eyes into the almost blinding Karakura sunlight. The clouds were unbelievably white and wispy, floating dreamily against their bright blue backdrop. What a conniving, fake day, especially after yesterday's storm. In fact, there was almost no trace of it at all, save the occasional puddle or fallen branch. Things had gone back to nearly how they were before. Probably because that Hollow had caused the worst of the storm by the stadium.

The area around the stadium itself must be a total disaster. Shiori winced.

_I have a feeling that I'm going to see Urahara Kisuke again, whether I like it or not._

_That's usually the way these things work._

Shiori scowled inwardly.

_And why the flying frick did he even have a woman's yukata to lend me in the first place?_

-OOO-

Ichigo walked into the classroom, turning his chair to face Rukia and sitting in his seat backwards. "You got up early today."

"As always." Rukia answered back, glancing at him without turning her head. "I got up early to try and train a little so this stupid gigai doesn't shut down on me. You should try it sometime, you'll feel refreshed."

"I feel more refreshed when I get up after a good night's sleep." Ichigo said wryly, closing his eyes and rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm exhausted. Yuzu insisted we go through all the crap we have cluttering up our basement, and she made me do all the heavy lifting. And where was my dad throughout all of this? Snoring away on the sofa. Yuzu claimed he 'needed his rest'."

Rukia laughed, before growing serious. "Well, he does work hard, Ichigo. Face it; you took this opportunity as a welcome distraction from thinking about Thursday."

Ichigo sighed. "And now I'm thinking about it again, Rukia."

"Shut up and listen." Rukia said flatly. "I've been thinking about it, whether you have or haven't. Mukhai aren't like normal Hollows, never having been human in the first place. They're just the guardians of Hueco Mundo. Unfortunately, those guys re-form. You can get rid of them for a while, but you can never completely kill them."

"So where the hell do you think it went, the Void?"

"I'm serious!" Rukia whispered fiercely, glaring at him. "Like I said, they don't _need_ human souls to subsist, never having been human in the first place. They take what they can get. If there's a human soul around, they'll attack. Otherwise, they don't bother."

Ichigo snorted. "So basically, they're like my father."

Rukia chose to ignore that. "They consume the sand in their own world because the minerals there have unusual elements that allow each Mukhai to gain their own special…talent, you might say. That was a Wind-based Hollow."

"Somehow, I think I might've guessed that." Ichigo lowered his eyes, mouth set in a firm line as he thought of the freak hurricane by the stadium. News reports stated that they were still clearing up hundreds of yards away from the stadium, which seemed to have been the eye of the typhoon. "So now what? We wait for it to re-form before killing it again and again? Rukia, how many are out there? If there's no surefire way to kill a Mukhai, then what chance do we have against a lot of them?"

"Who says they're all going to come down to the human world? They prefer not to. It isn't what they're made for. They are guardians, Ichigo." Rukia's eyes glinted with that look that Ichigo had come to know well over the past few months.

"And that means…?"

"That you are the densest man in the world, Ichigo Kurosaki."

"Hey!"  
Rukia leaned forward. "It came to fight? I think not. Was it sent by someone? It's possible. What was the Hollow doing at the stadium, then?"

"It was guarding something." Ichigo breathed with understanding. "But what?"

Just then, the classroom door slammed open. "Good morning class, and all that stuff. Pleasantries aside, I'd like to offer my utmost congratulations to our soccer team for winning Thursday's match!" Ms. Ochi grinned at Tatsuki, who waved at the class lazily from her seat. "Although I'm sorry about your leg, Arisawa. How long do the bandages have to stay on?"

"A couple of weeks." Tatsuki shrugged noncommittally. "Until the stitches dissolve. I have a crutch because the doctor said I shouldn't strain it. That Fujiwara kid, whoever it was, really did a number on me." She said airily. Tatsuki didn't seem affected at all. On the contrary, she seemed proud of her injury, like it was a sort of battle scar. She fingered the silver crutch propped against her desk like it was a medal of honor. "And my ankle's sprained too. That's going to take much longer to heal."

Just then the door opened again, and the new girl stepped into the room with a little more grace than the way Ms. Ochi had entered. Ms. Ochi whipped her head around, looking at the clock.

"You aren't late, Sorano. But…goodness! What happened to you?" Ms. Ochi exclaimed, gazing at the new girl's arm and covering her mouth with her hand. Ichigo craned his neck, seeing that Sorano's right arm was wrapped in white bandages from her fingers all the way up until it disappeared into the airy sleeve of her uniform blouse.

Sorano winced, as if she'd expected that exact question. "Well, ah…I…fell down the stairs."

"…" Ichigo exchanged a glance with Rukia. He could tell that neither Rukia nor Ms. Ochi was buying it. Ichigo glanced at Uryu, who was giving Sorano a strange look out of the corner of his eye. _I've heard_ _that__ one before._

Ms. Ochi grimaced. "What's with all the _injuries_…?" She sighed, and nodded at Sorano. "All right, take your seat. I have another topic I wish to address before class begins."

Sorano wove her way around desks until she reached her seat beside Ichigo. She didn't look at him when she sat down, but he kept watching her. She removed her school things neatly from her equally neat book bag, and set everything out in front of her before facing the front. Ichigo looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time.

She looked tired, for one thing. And every time she moved her right arm in the slightest manner, her eyes narrowed a little with pain and a muscle worked in her jaw. She was probably trying not to emit any sounds that portrayed her injury.

But she was hurting.

_I know too many people like her. She won't show her pain and tries to get through it all herself. _Ichigo thought, irritated. _I'm going to offer her my notes so that she won't have to write with that arm._

"Hey," Ichigo whispered subtly. "Sorano!"

She turned her gaze towards him with an almost impassive look in her azure eyes. "What is it, Kurosaki?" She asked quietly back.

"Ichigo, Shiori! Face front and pay attention!" Ms. Ochi said sharply. Sorano slowly turned to face the front, looking as though she had never been asked to do such a thing in her entire life.

_Because she already does that without being told. She's even more of a goody-goody than Uryu is. _Ichigo dryly noted as Sorano sent a death-glare towards the blackboard, knowing that it was meant for him.

"Has everyone brought back their permission slips for the hanami?" Ms. Ochi's voice interrupted his thoughts. "If you haven't, raise your hand. If you have, bring it up here and place it in a _neat_ pile on my desk." Everyone got up with a screeching of chairs, and formed an uneven line. "Oh, I sent yours directly to your father, Ishida. He faxed it back this morning, so you're covered." Uryu lowered his eyes but raised his head, nodding silently.

"My parents signed Orihime's too, as usual." Tatsuki told the teacher as she hobbled up to the front and placed two papers in the pile.

Ichigo blinked. With all the bustle of the past few days, he'd completely forgotten about the cherry-blossom viewing party and the slip that was currently lying in the forsaken depths of the bottom of his bag. He raised his hand, causing Ms. Ochi to sigh.

"Bring it tomorrow, Ichigo. If you don't, you aren't going. Clear?"

"Yes, sensei." He lowered his hand, trying to exhale his stress. He glanced over at Rukia who was sitting in her desk, calm as you please.

"What about you, Rukia? Should I ask my father to sign one for you…? But no, that's suspicious…" Ichigo mumbled, trying to find a way around this potential problem.

Rukia rolled her eyes. "I've got it all under control. I forged one and handed it in last week."

"What?" Ichigo yelped, leaning back in his chair with outrage. "But that's…like…illegal!"

Rukia smirked. "I'm not from this world, Ichigo. I don't have to abide by the law." Rukia uncapped a pen and scribbled a messy reminder on Ichigo's hand so he'd remember to bring his own form. "_You_ however, are another story. I recommend writing on your hand. Now for sure you won't forget!"

"Youuuuu…" Ichigo growled, a dark aura emanating from him. He glared at his grafittied palm. She'd even signed it with a little cartoon bunny. "This is permanent marker!"

"Oops."

From his peripheral vision, he spotted Sorano walking up to Ms. Ochi. He froze in mid-pose (his hands were outstretched towards Rukia, who was trying hard not to laugh at him with her hand covering her mouth…ooh, REVENGE) and turned slightly towards the teacher's desk.

"Did Ms. Ochi speak to the principal…?" Sorano politely inquired.

"I did, Shiori. It's taken care of. Atobe-sensei himself signed the form, which was extremely nice of him, I must say. Be sure to go thank him at the hanami, he'll be there as well."

"I'm very grateful, thank you for going to all that trouble." Sorano bowed.

Ms. Ochi smiled kindly at her. "Now, none of that. It was no trouble at all, I'm happy to help my students in any way possible."

Ichigo watched all of this silently, until he turned back to see Rukia staring at him. "Ichigo…" She said quietly.

"Yeah. So she lives alone, huh?"

"If the principal has to sign her form, it must mean that she doesn't have any parents…or anyone else…to sign it for her."

Ichigo's brows furrowed even further. _Imagine going through life without either one of your parents. I mean, I have Dad, even though he can be a total pain in the neck sometimes. I have Karin, and I have Yuzu. Who does Sorano Shiori have? _He looked at Sorano's figure walking back to her seat.

Somehow, she seemed more delicate…more fragile…than she did before.

-OOO-

"Well, class. Now we move on to the next point of interest. For anyone who didn't know, each year there is an event planned to take place at the hanami, voted on by the students." Ms. Ochi told everyone, eyes sweeping across the room.

Shiori was already dreading this hanami. She hated crowds. And parties. And socializing. Which you have to do at parties.

She glowered at the back of the person's head in front of her. Maybe she'd just show up to thank the principal, say hello to everyone, make sure they all see her there, and then leave. This epic plan, known as the 'Sorano-maneuver' in her own mind, would be the key to her roaring success in getting home to go to sleep early. She had somewhere to be the day after the party, she'd realized it the minute she'd seen the date on the form.

"I have the results of the vote right here." Ms. Ochi waved a white envelope around. "Shall I keep it suspenseful in here so you'll listen to my other announcement first, or should I just tell you people the event now?"

"NOW!" The class yelled as one.

"Okay, okay." Ms. Ochi grinned widely, as if she'd expected that answer. Girls were crossing their fingers. Everybody looked excited, eager. Even Kurosaki, who Shiori had noticed was usually indifferent to these things, was listening. Shiori heard Michiru and a playful-looking brown-haired girl she vaguely remembered was called Mahana whispering to each other, blushing and giggling.

_What are they so nervous and excited about? It's just a hanami…is the event supposed to be extra-special?_

Ms. Ochi slowly slit open the envelope, taking her time on purpose. Everyone protested. "Sensei! Open it already!" Ms. Ochi smiled sadistically, opening it even more slowly, now pulling the paper out a centimeter at a time.

"SENSEI!"

"Okay, okay." Ms. Ochi said again, laughing. She opened the letter, scanning it with her eyes. She let out a small squeal, though she quickly made amends to hide it. "Ahem. I'll give you a few minutes to…erm, celebrate." Shiori raised an eyebrow. "Coming to this year's hanami…Angel's Rain!"

"KYAAAAAAHHH!" All the girls went insane, hugging each other and jumping up and down. Shiori winced, not bothering to cover her ears because she'd only be able to cover her left one anyway, therefore defeating the purpose.

"OHMI_GAWD_!"

"I'm so excited!"

"I have to go shopping! I'm going to go after school today, so whoever wants to come…!"

"Angel's Rain, HERE! My cousin in Kanagawa is gonna be so jealous~!"

"Excuse me…" Shiori tried to interject, but everyone was too busy chattering, even the guys. "Excuse…" She narrowed her eyes. Nobody was listening to her. And she didn't like it at all.

"_Excuse me._" Shiori nearly yelled. The entire class stopped to stare at her. She flushed a little bit, but continued speaking regardless. "Um. Would anyone mind explaining what Angel's Rain is?"

Shiori never knew so many jaws could drop at one time simultaneously. Her first thought was that she'd made some kind of major offense to everyone or something. In a way, she sort of had.

"You…" A short pixie-like girl called Jahiro couldn't finish her sentence, she was so shocked.

"You don't know about Angel's Rain?" Michiru spoke in a hushed voice, stunned. Heck, even Keigo and Mizuiro were staring at her. "_Everyone's_ heard of-"

"Well, I haven't." Shiori cut her off. She didn't like being made to look ignorant in any way, even if it was for something as stupid-sounding as 'Angel's Rain'. "So do you mind telling me?"

"Listen, girl friend." Mahana slung an arm around Shiori's shoulder, which Shiori ultimately flinched at. "Angel's Rain is only the hottest boy band in this part of Japan. They're _everywhere_. They have their own clothing line and scent, their CDs are sold all over. Even my mother loves them."

"My sisters and I watch every one of their live concerts!"

"My cousins tape their show and send me episodes, since my TV broke and I only have a laptop to watch stuff on."

"My grandma…" Michiru hesitantly added to the conversation. "Says that they're gorgeous hunks of man-candy…whatever that means."

"Uh…" Shiori didn't know which to think was stranger. A grandma having a crush on the members of a teen band, or teenage girls blowing their bank accounts in order to impress males who will most likely never lay eyes on them anyway. "How many members are in this group?"

"Four!" Orihime exclaimed happily. Shiori stared at the bubbly redhead.

_Oh my. This is serious. Even Orihime has crossed over to the dark side._

"You _like_ those girly men, Orihime?" Tatsuki frowned. "What does everyone see in them?"

"Well, I like their songs!" Orihime defended herself. "Especially that new one called 'Bring Us Back'. I sing it to and from the market all the time!"

"I like the twins' solo album 'Don't Fall'." Jahiro confided. "They have beautiful voices."

"Excuse me, but I think that _I'm_ the expert on Angel's Rain, here!" Mahana insisted, pulling Michiru in with her. "Let's introduce the members for the unfortunate ones who don't know them."

…_Unfortunate…? _Shiori stared around at the lovestruck girls crowded around her desk. _I think not._

"First- the twins! Their names are Haruka and Kiyoshi, Haruka's four minutes older. They play the base guitar and piano, respectively. Their legendary mischievous tendencies make them famous, along with their close bond and good looks, of course."

Shiori watched, sweatdropping as flowers and bubbles appeared out of nowhere. Michiru was blowing bubbles from the side as Mahana danced around. "Next! The cutie-pie of the group, Seiichi! He's the drummer, seventeen years old as of last Tuesday, but is short and childlike for his age. His big brown eyes make the coldest heart melt into a hopeless puddle in the face of his charm!"

Mahana stopped twirling, a wide grin spreading across her face. "Did I forget somebody, ladies?"

"YES!" They all squealed.

"You forgot the most important member of all!"

"That's a matter of opinion!" Jahiro chimed in.

"And who is that, may I ask?" Mahana feigned ignorance.

Michiru began throwing rose petals that had also appeared out of absolutely nowhere.

They yelled his name all at once. "KAAAAZ!"

"That's right!" Mahana covered her flushed cheeks with her hands. "Kazuya, lovingly called Kaz by his fans, is the lead singer and electric guitarist. He's also the leader of the band."

Shiori nodded slowly. She'd forgotten all their names already.

"Okay, time to settle down!" Ms. Ochi waved a hand, wordlessly telling the class to be seated. Everyone complied, Shiori's head still buzzing from all the shrieking that went on. "Next item on our list- this year, our class is in charge of the after-party activity. What will we arrange?" She paused, and glanced at the clock again. "Oh, forget first period. I want you all to come up with ideas, and we'll vote on it."

Immediately, the class began buzzing with ideas. "We do have a budget!" Ms. Ochi yelled over the chaos.

Shiori rested her chin in her hands. What a waste of class time.

"We can do a strip rock-paper-scissors tournament!" Keigo suggested. Tatsuki whacked him in the back of his head with her crutch. "Ow!"

"Idiot." Ryo said tonelessly, chancing a glance over her copy of Akiyama Tetsuo. "Let's do something we all enjoy. Like, something _not_ perverted in any way."

Shiori found herself thinking about it, despite herself. As always, she wanted to be of some use. "Keep in mind that…um…Angel's Rain…is going to attend as well." She supplied, wanting to voice her opinion. Shiori was surprised at herself for speaking up. Usually, she'd just let everyone else do everything and she'd stay out of their way.

A simple but effective arrangement.

_Why can't I keep away from these people?_

"Ooh, Shii-chan's got a good point!" Mahana raised a finger. "We have to use our womanly charm to our advantage!"

_She called me…Shii-chan. Just like Ito does._

"And how will we accomplish this, ladies?"

"A maid and butler café." Came a smooth voice from the right of the crowd. Everyone turned around, including Shiori.

Shiori recognized the form of Ishida Uryu, who was still sitting by the front of the room, head bent over a book. He gently placed a bookmark within the pages, and turned to some extent to face the class. His glasses glinted as he pushed them back up the bridge of his nose. "Classy. Subtle. Appealing to the eye, yet not overused. Better than the costume balls most schools set up, or the Halloween fright nights or the carnivals."

Everyone was silent for a moment, before Mahana spoke out what everybody else was thinking. "I like it."

"Yeah, me too!"

"Nice thinking, Ishida."

"Okay!" Jahiro clapped her hands, whirling around to face Ms. Ochi. "Did you hear, sensei?"

"Every word." Ms. Ochi rose from her swivel chair and faced the class. "All in favor of a strip rock-paper-scissors tournament, say so now or forever hold your piece." She smirked at Keigo, who looked appropriately apologetic. "All in favor of a maid and butler café?"

Everybody raised their hands. The guys weren't so thrilled at the prospect of being made to dress up all fancy, but seeing the girls in maid uniforms was a plus.

"Right. Well, that was unanimous. Now, first item of business. We'll need maid uniforms for the girls, and butler uniforms for the boys. And I have to _approve _the maid ones." Ms. Ochi glared at the class in general. The guys sunk lower in their seats.

Keigo had hearts in his eyes. "Girls! In maid attire! I'm in heaven!" He whispered elatedly to Mizuiro.

"You heard what sensei said, doofus." Mizuiro murmured back. "She has to approve them."

"Yeah…well…still! Party pooper!" Keigo pouted. "You suck the fun out of everything. Fun-sucker."

"Names will never hurt me." Mizuiro chanted.

"Shut up, that song's old."

"I was such a cute little doughnut in elementary school…" Mizuiro sighed wistfully. "I got away with everything."

"That's because you blamed it all on me!"

Shiori distanced herself from all the chatter, the keyed up girls, Keigo's sulking. She would have to dress up in a freaking maid uniform and look like a complete moron, and it was all Ishida's fault! She was getting a little more than irritated at this point. Her reputation was at stake, all of Karakura supposedly went to this hanami, after all. Though she'd never had anything to do with it before, now she had no choice. She was a student at the host school.

Shiori imagined Ami's fawning. _"Oh, Shii-chan's so cute! I wanna just pinch your cheeks! Here, lemme take a picture. You can thank me later."_

And Jiro's silent laughter. _"I'd like some more tea, milady."_

Everyone she knew from her old school would be there.

What had she gotten into now? She couldn't get out of it using her injuries as an excuse, either. The hanami was in a few weeks, she'd definitely be healed by then. _ARGH._

"Does anybody know of a store that carries maid and butler uniforms?" Ms. Ochi continued, taking out a pen and paper and sticking the paper into a clipboard. "If so, tell me now so I can make the necessary arrangements."

"Excuse me." Ishida interjected quietly. "But I can make the uniforms if you'd like."

Ms. Ochi squinted at him. "You…can do that…?"

"Oh, yes, sensei!" Orihime stood up suddenly and waved her hand around. "Ishida-kun can do all that and more! He's a sewing wizard!"

Michiru was quick to back Orihime up on that one, while Ishida glanced away and fiddled with his glasses. Shiori swore she saw pink tinting his face across his cheekbones and nose. The look was somehow endearing.

"W-well…I don't know about that…"

"All right, Ishida. You can be in charge of making the costumes, and you can recruit four or five others to help you sew and take sizes and all that sort of thing." Ms. Ochi nodded at him, taking notes on her clipboard. "Orihime, Michiru…who else can sew in this class?"

Orihime surveyed the room, her ginger eyebrows knitting together in contemplation. "Well…Jahiro-chan can sew…" Jahiro grinned and nodded from her seat beside Mizuiro. "And…"

_Oh crap no. _Was Shiori's last panicked thought before Orihime pointed right at her. Shiori deflated with defeat. "Shii-chan can sew! I found that out on her first day!"

_My life is complete. _

"Lovely." Ms. Ochi wrote their names down onto the clipboard. "Since you're injured, you can be the one to take people's sizes, Sorano. Another thing- we need a pair of students to go together and buy the material. Anywhere you recommend, Ishida?"

Ishida jerked a nod. "There's a quaint little sewing shop near my house called Sunflower Seams. I'm sure they'll have everything we need."

Shiori was frozen. Oh, no. No way. This wasn't happening to her.

"Who would- yes, Shiori?" Ms. Ochi said, seeing her suddenly raise her hand.

"I…don't think Sunflower Seams is a good choice. There's a place called Juria's a little further away, but it has more choices for us to select from." Shiori said in an even tone, trying not to give away her desperation. Nobody could find out that she worked there. _Nobody. _It would only lead to awkward situations.

She imagined Keigo and the rest of them…coming into Sunflower Seams to _visit_ her…after school and during her breaks…she shuddered. Yes, this would have to remain a well-kept secret.

"You're mistaken, Sorano-san. I believe Sunflower Seams is more than adequate." Ishida said, glancing at her coolly. "I've only been there once a while ago, as I prefer ordering from their catalog, but the shop served my needs well."

She glowered at him.

He stared right back. Both of their eyes narrowed. An invisible challenge hovered between them.

The class stared from Ishida, to Shiori, and back again until Ms. Ochi called a stop to it. "That's quite enough! I think you should go check out this Sunflower Seams just to see what there is. And if it doesn't end up serving our needs, we can go to Juria's." Ms. Ochi smiled cheerfully, one of those dark smiles that hid the sadistic personality Shiori swore her teacher hid beneath the surface.

"You can go with Ishida, Shiori. Today. After school." Ms. Ochi made a final note on her clipboard with a flourish, eyes saying 'you will do it, or face my wrath'.

Shiori wished _so badly _that she had never gotten out of bed that morning.

-OOO-


	8. Endurance

Ari here~!  
Just wanted to give you an important heads up: I am not going to abandon this story.  
I am so glad this chapter's finally out, and that you guys can all enjoy it. Thank you for your endles patience and support! I've been a little too into my K-Pop, and other stories...I hope I'll be able to post another up very soon. I'll let you guys know when I do! In the meanwhile, if you _are_ interested in K-Pop (its only like the best thing invented) then check out my other two stories!  
This chapter is dedicated to YOU.  
Be excited. Things are finally beginning to heat up...

* * *

It is the nature of the strong heart, that like the palm tree it strives ever upwards when it is most burdened.

~Sir Philip Sydney

* * *

Chapter 8: Endurance

Silence. Shiori's standard leather school shoes made no sound on the off-white pavement on the way to Sunflower Seams, and neither did Ishida's. She kind of wanted to kick something, just to make a noise.

Maybe a rock.

Or maybe Ishida.

Shiori continued walking. She wasn't talking to him, and he wasn't talking to her. It was an effective arrangement.

Shiori's left hand clenched more and more tightly to her bag. She cursed Ishida, her injured arm, and the entire world in general. The only sound that betrayed the silence was the cars that whizzed past the pair, oblivious to Shiori's plight. She envied the elementary school children going home on the other side of the street. They were laughing, teasing each other, and looked carefree and happy. Their shoulder bags also looked as light as air.

Shiori adjusted the strap of her own bag. The preparations for the upcoming hanami had not stopped Ms. Ochi from giving her students a mountain of homework. But Shiori was glad for the distraction. Maybe tonight, she'd be working until late. Then she would fall straight asleep, and be too tired to have her usual dreams.

_The glow of a streetlight. It casts a warm yellow light upon the powdery snow that surrounds it, making the pure substance glitter with a subtle and mysterious sheen. The sky is dark, sprinkled with stars…_

_That same fur-trimmed coat of the tiny girl who stands knee-deep in the snow, watching the flakes fall from above. Her eyes are wide, reflecting the glow of the streetlight as she witnesses the ethereal dance of the twirling flurry of snow around her. _

_She trips over a twig buried deep within the snow. Being thrown off-balance combined with having such short little legs makes for a certain result- she falls and sinks into a white mound, smiling all the while._

_She sighs contentedly from where she lies, surrounded by a blanket of soft snow. Then there's black._

_Over and over and over again…_

_This same dream._

Shiori blinked, realizing that she never really did see the girl's face. She only saw a blur, and those wide eyes. Who was she? What was the meaning of it? She had no idea. But the whole scene…it had a certain feel to it. Uneasiness. A sense of foreboding. Why did there always seem to be a dark shadow, constantly watching? The creepy part was that the little girl seemed to not know it was there.

_But now isn't the time to dwell on things like that._ Shiori thought, glancing at Ishida's stiff figure out of the corner of her eye. _I'm walking to my work with the person in my class I seem to get along with the least, and we aren't even attempting to make conversation. And what do I do about my job? I can't let the other people in the class find out I work there…I'll never get any peace…_

Shiori bit down on her lip, eyes narrowing in dismay. _Why couldn't we have gone to Juria's? Ishida's so damn stubborn._

"Wake up, Sorano-san. We're here." Ishida said in a flat voice, turning the corner and moving his cobalt eyes in the direction of the little sewing shop, coming up on the left.

"I realize, Ishida-kun." Shiori replied in a voice that was just as even. "I have somewhere to be in a few hours, so let's make this quick."

"Fine." Ishida held the door open for her, which slightly surprised her, but she didn't show it on her face. Perhaps even the rigid scholar had some manners.

"Welcome to Sunflower Seams!" A voice said from the back. Ito appeared soon after, rolling down her hoodie sleeves and smiling. Her auburn hair was down, with a few beaded braids mixed in. Her smile made Shiori instantly relax. Ito always made Shiori feel like she was coming home. "Oh, Shii-chan, how are you? You don't have work today, so you must be here for some merchandise, right?"

Shiori shifted a little. She felt Ishida's intense stare on her, and she avoided looking at him. "Um, yes. This is Ishida Uryu, my classmate. We're here to-"

"Oh, I know Uryu!" Ito grinned at Ishida, who nodded back at her in recognition. "He's come here before. You say he's a classmate of yours?"

"Yes." Shiori pushed a lock of hair back behind her right ear, using her left hand, which felt a little weird. "We're looking for costumes for an event our school is planning."

"The yearly hanami?" Ito questioned, beckoning them towards the back of the room. Shelves upon shelves of labeled fabrics took up nearly two entire walls, not counting the very expensive ones hidden under plastic wrap by the storage room. Shiori affirmed this with a nod. "Tell me about it."

"Well, our class is in charge of the event this year, and we're organizing a maid and butler café." Shiori nearly cringed just saying the words.

"That sounds like so much fun~!" Ito scanned her finger along the shelves, before beginning to pull out fabric after fabric, dumping them all into Ishida's arms. Whole rolls of fabric were heavy, but he only staggered a little before straightening up. "I wish I were back in high school! Well…not really, but I miss these exciting activities! I'm coming to the hanami, Shii-chan, did you know?"

"No, I didn't. I'm glad you'll be there." And she was. Ito's comforting presence alone would make her feel a little better. Suddenly, Shiori interjected. "Oh…um, and we have a budget, Ito. We can't spend it all on the materials; we still need to buy the desserts, tea, tablecloths, and flowers."

"Not a problem!" Ito nodded. She began cutting lace for them to take as well, both black and white, and then threw a couple of packets of needles on top of the pile which Ishida had placed by the register. "I know somebody who sells very beautiful flowers. I can get them for you; just tell me how many you need. And you can just use some of the extra fabric to make tablecloths. All you'd have to do is hem them."

Ishida frowned, adjusting his glasses. "Hm. We also need tables and chairs. Small tables, preferably. Ones that hold four people at the max, just like a real café."

"We can rent them for a cheap price from the shop a few doors down." Shiori suggested. "Their stuff is all secondhand."

"Chad can help with the heavy lifting." Ishida took out a notepad from his pocket and started scribbling. His glasses flashed as he looked down, and Shiori blinked hard. "Then we should try to find silverware and teapots from anyone who's willing. Worst comes to worst, we'll use plastic."

_No…it can't be. It was just my imagination, that other night…a trick of the moonlight, most likely…_

Ito measured out the fabric by the lengths Ishida specified, cut them, and then placed the unneeded rolls back on the shelf. Ito bagged their purchases and kept up the conversation for a while longer. Shiori was so grateful that it was only Ito at the moment. Ami would probably be coming in later on, after her cram classes, but Shiori knew for a fact that Ami would not be shy to grill her about Ishida and why he specifically was with her. The maid and butler subject was also something Ami would squeal about. She liked cosplay, and anything to do with lace, knee socks, and short skirts.

Shiori paid with the money Ms. Ochi had given them, and the two left the store with a light step. Ito waved at them, the door jingling as they walked out onto the sidewalk. They'd gotten that done in record time.

Ishida then insisted upon taking more of the bags, because Shiori's arm was hurt, but she only snapped at him.

"I'm fine, Ishida-kun. Don't treat me like I'm an invalid."

"I was _trying _to help. Can't anyone try to be nice to you without your protesting?" His dark hair framed his face as he glared down at her, obviously offended.

"No. I can manage on my own." Shiori held her bags in her left hand, and had stuffed a few of the thinner bags in her briefcase. He retracted his hand and they continued walking in stony silence.

Eventually, Shiori chanced a glance at Ishida. He looked as though he wanted to say something, judging from his slightly parted lips and his furrowed brows. She raised an eyebrow of her own.

"Well, spit it out."

Ishida looked uncomfortable. "I was just thinking…where are we going to store everything? The school has to be locked up by now."

Shiori stopped in her tracks, causing him to halt as well. Then she thought about it. "I don't have much room at my place. But I suppose I could take half and bring it to school tomorrow. You take the other half."

Ishida nodded. "All right. We can tell the class everything tomorrow, and maybe take sizes so we can get moving. I can sketch a few designs tonight, and the class can vote on the one they like best."

"That sounds good." Shiori winced suddenly as a wave of pain shot through her right arm. She had to take another endurance pill. Ishida scrutinized her face.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Shiori said through gritted teeth. "I…I'm fine. Good night."

He stared at her impassively. His eyes seemed to cut straight into the heart of all her worries, to see what she was really hiding. "…Walk safely."

Before Shiori could say another word, he swiveled on the spot and began to make his way home. She closed her open mouth, turning the other way and sighing. "Why do I feel like that has a double meaning?" Shiori muttered to herself. "Did he mean my arm, or…?"

But no. She was overthinking, as always. She thought back to Ito's welcoming words back in Sunflower Seams. "And now he knows I work there. He'd better keep the secret." Shiori's fingers were beginning to turn red from the pressure of the bag handles on her left hand. _Me and my stupid pride again._

Shiori walked back to her apartment, unlocking her door and depositing her bags onto the kitchen table with relief. She never thought that she'd think this way, but her schoolwork would have to come later. She had a place to be. Ever since the Hollow-caused hurricane by the stadium, she'd wanted to go back and check out the area. There was something suspicious about that place. And who knows? Maybe she'd get a clue as to why that Hollow had been there in the first place.

Shiori popped another endurance pill, feeling the results almost immediately. She had to hand it to Tessai. He knew what he was doing.

She took off her uniform and pulled on a pair of dark jeans, her running shoes with ankle socks, and a black wifebeater with a zip-up hoodie. She had to dress discreetly and comfortably for this mission. Because she was going to try and train right afterwards.

_Now that my power is back, I have to get stronger. _Shiori reflected, transferring the small pill canister into the pocket of her sweater. _If I meet a Hollow like that again, I want to be ready. In this weakened state, I'll be crushed even by the lowest level Hollow. _

She locked her door, and set out. It took around fifteen minutes to reach the stadium. When she got there, it looked like an entirely different place.

The streetlights all around it were turning on as the afternoon sun slowly sank down from its place in the sky. There were still a few walls under construction on the outside, bowled over because of the Hollow's strong winds. The stadium itself loomed tall and overbearing into the fading sky, casting its long shadow.

Shiori shivered, then walked until she was well into its dark shadow. Only then she began making her way towards the main of the four entrances, the one closest to where she was standing.

"How am I going to do this?" She wondered out loud, taking in the gated entry. The bars were solid metal, and there was no space up above for her to climb over through. She backed up, and took in her surroundings. Another way in was one of the very high walls surrounding the stadium…ones that weren't destroyed, that is. It was time to test her limits.

Was she strong enough? She didn't want to risk trying anything that would exhaust her spirit energy, as she wasn't completely healed yet. But in order to get into the stadium, it was either blasting open the gates with arrows, or Hirenkyaku. "The only problem is that there isn't much reitsu in the air…" Shiori stepped back a few paces, sizing up the wall. "It'll take a few minutes, and I can't hold out for too long, but it's the only way."

Shiori began to concentrate, that pinprick of light in her brain sparking, then catching ablaze. "Now, gather it all. Slowly…"

Little by little, pieces of shining light that looked like shards of glass whizzed down from the air and towards her outstretched hands. Like they were all magnetically attracted to the Quincy charm that was floating upwards on her wrist, aiding in the collection of the spirit particles. She shaped them, like an artist with his clay, molding them into a perfect square. She threw the shining square disc into the air in front of her, and it hovered to a stop before her feet. She stepped up onto it.

Using every ounce of her awareness, Shiori directed the Hirenkyaku platform upwards, and over the wall. Some of the particles glowed on and off like a million little fireflies, skidding off the edges, fading a little because her dominant arm was not in use. She waited until her feet were firmly on the grass before dismissing the particles with a wave of her hand. The pieces went skidding off into nowhere, melting into the atmosphere.

She was in. The field was large and wide, and she felt small standing in the center of it. The thick white lines that marked the boundaries stretched far out towards the surrounding seats, which sloped upward. Shiori felt like dozens of invisible spectators were watching her, following her progress and silently disapproving her trespassing.

She'd make this quick.

Shiori began her search by the seats, walking up and down the rows and aisles. She had no idea what she was looking for. Something out of the ordinary, maybe? Just then, she heard something that made her freeze in her tracks. Two voices. Coming closer.

She ducked behind the seats, scooting to the left and edging back towards the wall she'd arrived over. The voices were coming from the opposite direction, from the field.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" The first voice muttered in a low tone. "The Hollow was outside, not inside."

"Yes, but whatever it was guarding could possibly be inside!" A second replied in an annoyed tone. "Stop being such a pessimist. If we could figure this out, then maybe I can stop feeling nervous. I just know that there was something fishy about that Mukhai. And even though it's possible that it was just a rogue escaped from Hueco Mundo, I don't want to take any chances."

"So what are we looking for, a secret passageway?"

"Perhaps. Now move it, we have an entire stadium to cover."

Shiori hardly blinked, listening almost without breathing. These people knew what Hollows were, and though they didn't sound dangerous, they possessed enough knowledge to make her significantly worried. But then her mind moved on to the important information that she had just gained. A Mukhai? Was that the type of Hollow it was? Weren't those known as the guardians of Hueco Mundo? The plot thickens. _What is it doing here then, of all places?_

"I was right." Shiori breathed, now having reached the edge of the wall. "The Hollow wasn't normal. And if by some crazy chance there are more of those things lurking around…"

All of Karakura was at risk. Shiori had seen the incredible amount of damage the first one had caused. And it went without saying that there would be all sorts of damage inflicted upon the town if there were others around. Mukhai had elemental-based power. Shiori pictured dozens of houses, her little apartment building included, roaring with flames, smoke spiraling into the heavens. She shuddered.

This situation was not to be taken lightly.

But how were the Mukhai escaping from Hueco Mundo and getting into the human world? Shiori glanced around the stadium. Maybe that was her answer. She'd have to do some more investigating when these two people were gone.

Just then, she froze once more. Every nerve in her body tingled. And just like that, all her plans changed. _No. No. Not again._

A Hollow. A Hollow had appeared away from the stadium, five yards from the community pool. Shiori's mind whizzed a million miles an hour as she contemplated what to do. The voices were growing more faint, moving towards the middle of the field. Dusk was approaching. She had to move fast.

Her body was a blur as she appeared in front of the wall in no time at all. Quincy speed would help in allowing her not to be spotted. Shiori shaped another screen step and soared above the stone wall. She glanced back, making sure the two people weren't watching, and almost fell off the platform.

It fizzed, threatening to fade, before Shiori gathered her senses once more.

She saw a petite girl with hair as black as midnight, gleaming in the fluorescent lights that the few lamps around the stadium gave off. Beside her was a tall teenager who had the brightest orange head of hair that she had ever seen.

The two people were Ichigo Kurosaki and Rukia Kuchiki.

Shiori began breathing hard and fast, urging the platform to take her quickly to the other side before hastily dismissing it. Then she ran. She ran like she hadn't done in years, and she had forgotten how exhilarating it felt.

Everything blurred past her in streaks of color as she moved, even the occasional car was going too slowly to catch up with her, let alone see her. It was like folding space and time itself.

Shiori stopped abruptly, a distance away, completely unruffled. Immediately, she felt and saw that the Hollow was a low-level one, nothing like the Mukhai she'd expected. She felt a limp sense of relief.

_But I'm not going near the Hollow. I'm not taking any chances, because it's possible that I'm still too weak for close-up confrontation. Better to not allow it to see me at all._

She closed her eyes, set ablaze the spark in her mind, and called upon her bow. It would be painful to let even one arrow loose, but she'd have to risk it. "Raiko…" Her bow appeared in a shining flash of light, and she gripped it like shaking the hand of an old friend. "Let's go." She whispered, drawing back the bowstring. Letting loose a single arrow, it flew straight and true, arcing over buildings and marking itself right through the center of the Hollow's head. With a horrible, gurgling scream, it was finished.

Shiori allowed her bow to return to its dormant stage, her charm bracelet. She gripped her throbbing right arm and tucked in a corner of the bandages that had come loose. She then turned around to head back home. Training would have to wait for a different night.

Shiori was exhausted.

And she had a lot to think about.

-OOO-

"Okay. Calm down." Shiori said out loud once she was in the safe confines of her apartment. She flicked on her bedroom light and collapsed face first onto the bed, wincing when the move jostled her arm roughly. "What am I saying…? I mean, I just found out that two of my fellow students know all about Hollows, and maybe more about the spirit world that I don't even know. After all, they realized that the Hollow was a Mukhai. They saw it at the stadium…and think that it's guarding something there as well."

The situation had gotten all the more serious. Shiori wasn't sure whether or not she could trust _anybody_. At this point, she wouldn't be surprised if little Michiru started pulling out Soul Candy from her pocket, or if the bookish intellectual Uryu turned out to be a Shinigami.

She couldn't look at anyone without suspicion.

Shiori rolled over onto her back and thought. She had to protect herself further. She had no idea whether or not Ichigo and Rukia were the good guys. They could easily be searching for the passageway for their own benefit- for what, she had no idea. But who says they wanted to check to make sure no more temperamental, highly dangerous Hollows made their way into Karakura?

Who knew what they had in mind. Shiori let out a breath, and stared up at her ceiling. She knew what she had in mind. Only to protect. She only had it in her mind to do what was best for the civilians that surrounded her in her everyday life, going about their business and having no clue that people like her even existed.

"Let's keep it that way." She muttered, peeling off her sweaty clothes to take a welcome bath. She had to take measures now. Nobody could find out what she was. Nobody. If anyone saw her Quincy charm and knew what it meant, then they could use it against her. She could have enemies in her class and not even know it.

Shiori knew that she was maybe just being paranoid. But just in case…

Shiori glanced down at her arm, raising it so her Quincy charm spun and sparkled in the light. "We have to hide you for a while." She said quietly, going over to her sewing box. In a few minutes, she had constructed a sort of stretchy sleeve that she could slip over the charm part of her bracelet. It was her favorite color, blue, and did a good job of hiding the telltale Quincy insignia.

Shiori sat there a while, staring at the sleeve, not realizing that her bath was getting very close to overflowing.

She could trust no one.

_Be careful. Things are gonna get dicey._

-OOO-

It was about five minutes before the bell was supposed to ring. Rukia glanced around the classroom anxiously, searching. Her dark eyes finally fell upon Uryu, who was early, as usual. She could always count on him to be there. Ichigo followed her as she wove her way through the sea of desks over to where Uryu was sitting and reading, a mild-mannered look on his face. A few lumpy-looking bags sat on the floor by his desk.

"Good morning, Uryu!" She greeted him, eyeing the bags with interest. "What's in those?"

"Good morning. Material for the maid and butler costumes." He replied, glancing up at her and placing a bookmark neatly within the pages of his book. "We're going to begin taking measurements today."

"Great." Rukia distractedly motioned for Ichigo to come closer, before whispering. "I've got to ask you something. Were you anywhere near the stadium last night?"

She'd expected a discreet nod, a reassurance that yes, he was out doing his usual Quincy thing. But Uryu, who was giving her his utmost attention, had a perplexed look on his face. "I was nowhere near the stadium last night. I didn't even go out. I was working on homework and sketches for the costumes."

Rukia exchanged a worried look with Ichigo. Uryu eyed them impatiently, waiting for one of them to explain. "Look, Uryu." Ichigo told him in a low voice. "Last night, we went to check out the stadium. We're sure that the recent Hollow attack by the soccer game has hidden reasons behind it. We think that there's something at the stadium that the Hollow was guarding."

"Yes, I suspected that too." Uryu said calmly, to the other two's surprise. "I know that it was a Mukhai. And I also know that something killed it by the game. Yes, I went in the end." He added, due to the further bemused looks on their faces. "I sensed the Hollow. When I realized that it was the one causing the hurricane, you can bet that I was over there pretty fast. Try as I might, I couldn't see the one who destroyed it. I just assumed it was you two."

Ichigo shook his head. "I never even got close. It was gone. I thought it escaped…but now you're telling me that someone else killed it?"

"Maybe it was Kisuke." Rukia offered. "He often sticks his nose into other people's business."

Ichigo narrowed his eyes. "But would he do it that suddenly, without even alerting us of his being there? That's a little strange, even for Urahara. He's secretive, but he'd let us know that he took care of it!"

"We can visit him and ask." Rukia finalized. "Maybe he knows something of all this. But what I really wanted to ask Uryu was whether or not he was the one who killed the low-level Hollow by the stadium last night. Although now I see that he was nowhere near there."

Uryu shook his head. "No, I wasn't. So who could it have been?"

"I don't know." Rukia was forced to say. And that scared her. "But Ichigo and I got there just in time to see the Hollow disintegrate. We thought it was you because…" She looked at Ichigo for help.

"Here's the deal, Uryu." Ichigo stared him straight in the eye. "We thought it was you, because it wasn't any zanpakuto that took him out."

Uryu cocked a brow, willing him to continue.

"It was a Quincy arrow."

-OOO-

Shiori entered the classroom with a big feeling of trepidation. She felt like something big was going to happen, something that would be hugely significant. And she couldn't shake off the feeling that the occurrence would have to do with her.

She placed her Sunflower Seams bags by her desk, put her shoulder bag on her desk (which was filled with her perfectly completed homework, though she'd been fatigued the night before), and stared around the room warily.

Orihime was happily telling Tatsuki, an enamored looking Chizuru, an interested Michiru, and an indifferent Ryo a detailed dream she'd had the night before. A bunch of the guys were joking around- Mizuiro, Keigo, a muscular looking giant whom Shiori hadn't been introduced to yet, and a few others. Then there was the tiny group in the corner. Ichigo, Uryu, and Rukia seemed to be in the middle of some sort of deep, serious conversation.

It made Shiori think. Was Ishida in on it? She closed her cerulean eyes and massaged her temples. Everything was making her so tense.

Just then, the sliding door slammed open, announcing Ms. Ochi's timely arrival. "Everyone, be seated. We have a lot to do!" Ms. Ochi swept the room with her gaze as the students took their seats hurriedly. "Ichigo. Do you have your permission slip?"

He nodded, and grimaced as he stared down at his palm. Shiori caught sight of slightly faded black marker, before he used that hand to reach into his bag and get his slip. The class gave a standing ovation when he handed it in, led by a smirking Keigo. Ichigo shot his friend a dirty look.

"Right. Perfect. The entire class has been approved, and we can move on. Uryu? Shiori?" Ms. Ochi called her name, making her start. "Did you go to that sewing shop yesterday?"

Ishida and Shiori both nodded, and held up their bags. Ms. Ochi invited them up to the front of the room. Shiori bit her lip, hating that she had to stand in front of the whole class once more, but got up and brought her bags with her. The class began to talk about the hanami again.

Shiori was beginning to find it a little tiresome. It was all anyone talked about these days. From outfits to Angel's Rain…honestly, people were more excited about the famous band coming to perform than the actual café their class was putting on for everyone.

"Um…hey." Ishida tried to get the class' attention, but the girls had begun to squeal again. Once they had started, there was almost no stopping them. Almost.

"Everyone, listen up." Shiori said firmly. The entire class grew quiet almost immediately. Ishida stared at her in disbelief.

Seeing as the class was focused on Shiori, she began to speak first. "We found a lot of good material at Sunflower Seams." She paused to make sure everyone was listening. They were. "And, if I'm not mistaken, Ishida-kun has made some initial designs for the uniforms."

Ishida held up his notepad. "I have. The class can vote on the style they like best, and Ms. Ochi can approve it." The teacher nodded her head. "So I'm going to pass this notepad around. Put a tally mark on the page you like best. Please do not vote more than once."

Ms. Ochi looked at Shiori and Uryu in turn, impressed by the way they handled the class. People listened to Shiori. And Uryu had a talent with organization.

"An announcement!" Ms. Ochi added, once the notepad had begun making its rounds. "I think our class needs representatives, ones who can be the leaders of all proceedings. If you have any questions, go to either Sorano Shiori or Ishida Uryu. I am making them in charge of this project, okay?"

The class murmured in assent, but Shiori turned her head towards the teacher, eyes widening in slight panic. She had no idea how to lead a group! She hated doing this sort of thing. And with Ishida? She'd rather work with someone a little less stick-up-the ass.

"Um…sensei?" She asked quietly and urgently. But the teacher was too caught up in what she was doing to answer. Ms. Ochi began to take attendance while the class was making their tallies, and when that was done, she took the notebook from the last person and handed it to Ishida.

"All right." Ishida began flipping through the pages of the notepad. On each one he'd drawn a maid outfit with a butler outfit beside it that subtly matched in design. "It seems that the most popular costume is…this one." He held up the page so everyone could see. Many people yelled their approval. Then he angled it towards Ms. Ochi, who squinted and stared at the page from every angle. Finally, after what seemed like forever, she nodded slowly.

"Okay, then that's settled. Measurements take place during last period, and if it takes longer than that, then some of you will have to stay after school for alternate days afterward." She picked up a piece of chalk, and wrote it on the board.

Shiori was distracted for the rest of the day, to say the least. Her mind kept swirling with lace and thread, Hollows and arrows of light. And she couldn't stop flicking glances over towards Ichigo and Rukia's forms to her left. And Ishida. Her new buddy. Why did she have to get stuck working with him?

She was never so glad to hear the bell ring for lunch.

She sat with Orihime and the girls, as was becoming natural. She was pulled over to the corner by the hyper redhead, and was immediately drowning in- you guessed it, plans for the upcoming hanami.

Shiori barely stifled a sigh. She couldn't wait until the darn thing was over and done with.

Before she knew it, it was last period, and time to be working on the costumes. When she'd gotten her sewing things all laid out, she found her hands full with things to do. She supervised Michiru, Jahiro, and Orihime, who were beginning to put together all of the headpieces for the girls. Ishida was already measuring the boys.

Shiori took out a fresh notebook and pencil, opening her cloth tape measure with renewed gusto. After all, it was one of the things she was best at. She got the girls to line up before her, and took their measurements one by one.

In one corner of the room, Mahana was discussing different pastries and other provisions for the café with her group. She was in charge of the food. Ryo, having a good eye, was in charge of the setup. So on and so forth. But Shiori and Ishida were the heads of everything, which was proving to mean a lot of extra work.

And before she knew it, many people were coming up to her for advice.

"Shii-chan, what do you think about tea imported from Korea? Going along with the whole scheme of the hanami itself, you know…"

"Where do you think the tables should be rented from, Shiori? And where are we getting tablecloths?"

"Should we serve tea first, or put a little tray of pastries out?"

"Sorano! We need silverware, right?"

Shiori found herself with a job.

It meant that she was responsible for a lot. As time went on, she was busier than ever, trying to keep up with plans for the hanami and her job at Sunflower, sewing up the costumes, and thinking of the stadium alongside it all. Her arm was nearly healed. People continued asking for her advice. And as opposed to all her other experiences in school, she found that everyone here really valued her opinion. And she hated to admit it, but she liked it.

Shiori was more a part of the class than she ever was. And she was actually enjoying herself.

"Do you think we can finish the measurements up tomorrow?" Shiori asked Ishida, one day after a stressful three hours of sewing. "Who do we have left to do?" By this point, everyone else had gone home. It was late noon, and the classroom was empty. The light from the sun was now filtering through the windows, a sure sign that the day was nearing its end.

Ishida checked her notebook, which he'd borrowed to fill in all of the boys' sizes. "Just the two of us." He glanced up, resting his navy eyes on her. "We can take turns." He suggested.

"Okay." She agreed, picking up her measuring tape and going over to where he was standing. Was it just her, or did he look a bit awkward? "Um…I'll do your ankles and legs first, and work my way up."

She knelt down; expertly wrapping her tape around his ankles, then ran the material up his legs. Shiori felt him shift a little. She glanced upward. He wasn't looking at her face. Rather, he was keeping his eyes trained over somewhere on his right, a light redness gracing his features. Or was she just imagining it? "I have to do your waist now…" She scrawled a few numbers into the notebook. The room was silent, with only the sound of her pencil breaking the noiseless still of their surroundings.

He obediently raised his arms up and out of the way, making it easier for her. He was a slim guy, she reflected as she wrote in another number. Now his arms and wrists. She straightened out his arm, beginning to run the tape down it.

_Wait a moment._

Shiori dropped her tape measure. And then the entire world came crashing down on her.

She could hardly breathe.

_NO. This can't be happening. No. No!_

_I don't accept it._

_I can't accept it._

"Sorano? Are you…are you okay?" Ishida's voice seemed like it was coming from underwater, like there was a blockage in Shiori's mind that she couldn't quite filter out.

She bent down to the ground to pick up her tape measure, hiding the expression on her face. She was sure it'd make him even more alarmed. "I'm…fine…" She managed to choke out, fingers fumbling for the white fabric. "Just…felt nauseous for a moment."

"Are you all right? Do you want me to take you to the nurse?" He bent down to her level, eyes worried, placing his hand on her shoulders. She looked at him, searching his face. He stared back.

After what seemed like an eternity, Shiori closed her eyes. _Get ahold of yourself. _"I'll be okay." She made to stand, and Ishida helped her up. She let him. And suddenly, as if realizing the position their hands were in, he removed them quickly as though they had been burned. They both looked away from each other.

Ishida coughed. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure." And just like that, Shiori went back to measuring him, trying to control her shaking hands.

Dangling from his arm was a bracelet. And it replicated her own Quincy charm exactly.

_It's okay. It's fine. He probably bought it off some street hawker who copied the Quincy style. Its no big deal. Happens all the time. Humans just don't realize…_

But her eyes kept getting drawn back to the charm bracelet hanging from Ishida's wrist. The more her mind raced, the more she wanted to make sure she wasn't making things up. She was afraid to find out. But she wanted- desperately needed- reassurance that it was nothing but a fake.

"Ishida-kun." She said after a while, slipping behind him so he couldn't read her expression and focusing intently upon his neck size. "Where did you get that bracelet? It's so quaint. I wondered whether you bought it in a store somewhere close by."

Ishida stiffened, so barely that hardly could have caught it, had she not been looking for a reaction. "It's…I…it isn't something that could be bought in any store, I'm sorry." He made to sound his reply effortlessly, pretending he was making easy conversation. It might've worked- had it been directed towards anyone else, and had he not been stuttering slightly.

"So where's it from?" She asked sweetly, slightly enjoying the evasive game they were playing. "I was thinking of buying one for my cousin, her birthday is coming up…do you think I could buy yours off you? Just name the price, I'm prepared to pay."

Ishida turned his head lightly. "I'm afraid I cannot do that. You see, it's a treasured family heirloom that has been passed down through generations. Many generations."

Shiori had thought that was the case. _…Oh, hell. _Utter and complete hell. Her suspicions were now rock-solid, and her hands were shaking so badly that she could hardly hold the pencil. She was barely keeping her emotions in check.

It was confirmed.

Ishida Uryu, her fellow classmate and hanami leader…

Was a Quincy.

_I don't accept it._

_I can't accept it._

But within her was nestled a tiny feeling of exhilaration, a stunning realization, and bundled up in all of that; fear.

_Guess what, Sorano Shiori?_

_You're not alone._

-OOO-


	9. Spirit

Hello everyone- I'm SO sorry for misunderstandings, but something must have happened to my chapter nine, so I re-posted it along with chapter ten and the BRAND SPANKING NEW chapter eleven!

So please go back and check to see if you've really read through chapters nine and ten- I apologize for the inconvenience. Now- DO WHAT YOU DO BEST! GO FIND URYU AND TIE HIM TO THE BED! MUAHAHAHAHAHAAA!

Just kidding.

Read on, my friends.

~ST15

* * *

_A coward is much more exposed to quarrels_

_Than a man of spirit._

~ Thomas Jefferson

* * *

**Spirit**

_It's them._

_They're here._

_In a deep pit, my enemies jeer and throw stones at me. They hiss and hurl insults down into my deep, dark abyss. They slowly fill up the hole with water, water pouring down either side of the dirt-encrusted ditch, and I cry out, "I'm condemned!" and make their smiles stretch wider. Grotesque. Leers staring out at me through the darkness._

_Leave the others! You can take my bones, my mind, my soul…_

_Hands groping for me. I cringe away, and try to run as fast as I could. The terror is unbelievable…please…just leave us be…_

_Tears flow down my frosty cheeks, unending, unable to be stemmed. The streets flow as well. Running through the gutters…the streets are awash with blood._

_Snowflakes. Limb-numbing cold. That streetlight keeps glowing, glowing, and the light is soft yet it makes everything so hard to see._

_It's impossible. This dread is so real._

_A hazy yellow light, cast upon the powdery snow, but the sky is dark, sprinkled with stars…it makes everything blur into shapes I feel are more like threatening shadows, always there, watching._

_These nightmares have always plagued me._

_Haunting me._

_They tore my family away, and I feel like this. I feel like I'm drowning._

_I thought there was nobody left. I always wished I was wrong._

_But now…I'm not so sure._

-OOO-

The expanse of Karakura's back lawn is lined with cherry blossoms.

The petals twist in the air, performing an age-long dance, finally settling onto some surface with a gentle flip, and pink is dotting everything that could be seen.

There is a giant stage set up by the back, under a large, spread-out canvas canopy that spells 'Tonight's Event~ Angel's Rain!' and instruments are set up there, along with four mics. Girls of all ages flit around that area with excited, eager looks on their faces, patting their new hairstyles and smoothing their carefully put-together clothing ensembles.

Smoke curls into the air on one end of the lawn, carried away by the soft breeze. The barbeque is getting many customers, who then retire to a convenient bench to watch their kids run along the vastness of the lawn, playing and laughing. The teenagers are playing games in all of the many booths set up all over, each displaying a clever carnival game during which, if you play well, you could possibly win a prize or two.

The students of Karakura man the booths. They're kept very busy, because the whole place is crowded as they come. Some run an ice cream stand. A few do swirly pink and blue cotton candy. A few others do dango on a stick, and sweet manju. The local children love every second of it.

Later on, the Karakura high school will open its doors, and the larger classrooms located on the bottom floor of the school will be used for the after-party activity, this year hosted by the class of 2-B…a maid and butler café.

The day of the anticipated hanami has finally arrived. Everyone was having loads of fun…except for one person.

"Did I mention that I'm really anxious?" Shiori muttered to herself, having just finished putting on the finishing touches to Mizuiro's butler costume and leaving the other girls to finish setting up. The place looked amazing, if she did say so herself.

She'd had to be there early however, because of the set-up process. Last costume fittings and table-setting and making sure all the pastries were ready…

She must've asked Michiru about six times whether or not they had received all the necessary silverware. Michiru, who was patient and kind, hadn't minded repeating herself. But when Shiori realized, she apologized with slight embarrassment. She'd never pinned herself as the worrying, OCD type. But then again, she'd never before had a real occasion to act that way.

"Where's Ishida-kun?" Shiori asked Yasutora Sado…or Chad, as everyone else seemed to refer to him, glancing up at his impassive face. Her voice wavered unintentionally when she said Ishida's name.

He was a sensitive subject for her for the past few weeks. She couldn't look him in the eye, couldn't face him, and could hardly even speak to him. Ishida Uryu dredged up past memories that made her shaken up and vulnerable, and she hated it. She hated being weak. Psychologically weak, that was.

Ever since her arm had healed, she'd been training harder than ever, deep in the woods…near Urahara's shop, now that she thought about it. But she was feeling steadily more capable, and she was comforted at least by that knowledge.

Chad himself was a tall, muscular guy who she'd been introduced to by the costume fittings. She liked Chad. He was blunt, precise, and didn't mince words.

"Haven't seen him." Came Chad's concise answer. "But maybe you should relax."

She felt the corners of her mouth turn up at the sides, and nodded. "Yeah. I guess you're right. Thanks."

He gave a grunt, and a noncommittal, "Don't mention it."

Shiori continued on her way, feeling an urge to see the setup behind the school. She'd been so busy with her class' activity that she'd never seen any of the other events that everyone had worked so hard to plan.

She felt a sudden surge of satisfaction. Shiori felt…proud. Of herself, of her school…and it was a good feeling. She almost regretted that it was the final day to this entire craze. In the end, she'd kind of enjoyed herself. Then she straightened up as she walked, shaking her head. It had been fun, but reality check- life wasn't just one big party, you know?

Everything good came to an end at some point.

Shiori waved to a few of her classmates, who were up to their necks in carnival games and little kids who wanted to try again and again. She was _so _glad that she wasn't on game duty. Talking to people and cheerfully explaining the rules wasn't her cup of tea.

Ms. Ochi came up to her suddenly, leading a stout man with a balding pate. He looked strict, yet not very frightening. It was the principal.

Shiori went up to him immediately and bowed deeply, remembering how he'd signed her consent form for her. It had been extremely kind of him and she was grateful.

"Thank you for signing my form from before, sensei." She told him, allowing a small smile. He chuckled.

"It was my pleasure, my dear. Always happy to help my students…especially if they are one of the top in the school!" He clapped her on the shoulder. Shiori held in a grimace. She hated it when people touched her. "Now, the exams are in a few weeks, remember that. Study hard!"

"I will, sir." She said, and he nodded and left with Ms. Ochi, suddenly announcing a craving for grilled meat.

Shiori sighed. That's right. She had to start studying…exams were due soon and she would not allow herself to get placed anywhere but at the top. Great, now she was thinking about schoolwork. Never a rest…

She wandered around, a little hungry. Maybe she'd visit the barbeque area. Suddenly, a pair of arms snaked around her waist and a voice whispered in her ear, "Why hello there, you look refined and ravishing as always! Care to join me in a game of amour?"

"CHIZURU!" Tatsuki's exasperated voice came soon after. She pried the girl off Shiori (who could have jumped Tatsuki in thanks then and there) and glared her best 'I'm gonna kill you' stare of doom.

"I leave you alone for two seconds and you're already putting the moves on Shii-chan?!"

Chizuru crossed her arms and pouted prettily. "What on earth do you mean, Tatsuki? I was only saying hello! And besides, you took my Orihime off somewhere and I was getting lonesome…

"THAT was no 'hello.' That's called nothing less than PUBLIC RAPE." Tatsuki yelled, attracting the stares of bypassers, who began looking more than a little scared. "And Orihime and I only went to get drinks!" She held up a few cold soda cans as proof.

Just then, Orihime appeared, and Chizuru's eyes sparkled as she practically leaped into her arms. "Princess! You have returned~!"

"Yeah, I'm here!" Orihime smiled. "Shii-chan, wanna play a few games with us?"

"Oh, you're proposing a threesome? Well, it isn't usually my taste, but I think that for Shiori I could manage it. Such long, lustrous hair and deep blue eyes..." Chizuru tapped her lip, lost in thought. Tatsuki began to hit her.

Shiori turned towards Orihime, ignoring the now raging fight that was going on behind her. "Um, I don't really know how to play any of these games…"

"I'll show you!" Orihime grabbed Shiori's hand, delighted, and pulled her towards a dart game. "Here you go!" She shoved a few tickets into the 2nd year's hand. "Now, Shii-chan. You just take the dart, and aim for the balloons on the board…"

Shiori squinted at the dart. It looked clumsy and unable to aim precisely, but she figured it was worth a shot. She drew back her hand, and with Orihime cheering her on, she picked up all of the darts at once.

"Wait, no, you're only supposed to do one at a-"

Shiori placed the darts between her fingers, and threw them all swiftly. With one loud popping noise, three balloons met their fate.

"…Time." Orihime squeaked. The student who was running the booth stared at her openmouthed, not even trying to mask his astonishment.

"Wow." Shiori marveled, flexing her hand. "That _was _fun. The game was a little short, though." She faced Orihime, who was staring at her in amazement. "Let's do some more!" She grinned.

Orihime stood still, a bit shocked, staring at the grin on Shiori's face. She looked so different when she smiled.

"W-wait!" The guy told her, motioning towards the stuffed animals that hung above the booth. "You can choose a prize…"

Shiori stared at the selection, completely indecisive as to which one she wanted. In the end, she just let Orihime pick. She chose a huge fluffy bunny and giggled as she hugged it.

"Are you sure you want me to have this, Shii-chan?" Orihime asked her hesitantly. "You're the one who won it, after all."

"Yeah, it's fine." Shiori told her, actually reaching her hand out to pat her friend's orange head. Orihime was so cute when she wanted to be. "Let's do something else!"

Orihime began to laugh again, because this enthusiasm from Shiori was so rare, and an amusing sight to see. Shiori looked more like a high-schooler now, having fun, rather than the polished, sophisticated person she made herself out to be.

Shiori was the one who was tugging Orihime around now. She played all of the games with competitiveness and skill, with Tatsuki, Chizuru, Orihime, Ryo, and Jahiro. Michiru was still finishing up in the classroom-turned-café.

"What's up, damsels?" Keigo suddenly appeared, carrying a few corn dogs, a dripping cone of ice cream, a stick of cotton candy, and a large Coke. Mizuiro appeared behind him, along with Michiru, Ichigo, Rukia, and Chad.

Orihime waved at all of them, and Tatsuki slapped Keigo's arm. "You're disgusting! How can you eat so much?"

Keigo rubbed his stinging arm, offended. "Why, I'm a man! I eat a lot! It's a sign of strength and growth!"  
"Right. Exactly. Whenever I look at you, Asano Keigo, all I see is man." Tatsuki said dryly, watching as his chest swelled, obviously unable to detect sarcasm, ripping a large chunk of corn dog with his teeth and beginning to chew noisily.

"What are you guys up to?" Mizuiro asked, smiling as usual.

"Shii-chan's been winning all the games!" Orihime pumped a fist in the air, gesturing towards Shiori. Everyone turned to see her at a ring-toss booth with Ryo, both trying to judge the trajectory angle of the throw so that they would attain a guaranteed win.

"She seems like she's good at it." Ichigo commented, shading his eyes to glance at the scene. Shiori tossed the ring, successfully making it onto the pole. Then he stared at the pile of prizes in Orihime's hands.

"Bunny!" Rukia squealed, running over to Orihime and tugging the stuffed bunny out of her hands to squeeze it in a hug. "Where did you get it?"

"Oh…this!" Orihime stammered under Ichigo's gaze, laughing nervously. "Shii-chan gave me all her prizes because she told me she didn't have room to keep them…"

"Really now." Ichigo said distractedly, preoccupied by a snack booth. "Come on, Rukia. I'll buy you a cotton candy…"

"You mean _you _want one." Rukia muttered, but followed him anyway, reluctantly giving Orihime back the bunny. "I hope you realize you're winning me one of these, too."

Orihime watched them go, a sad look in her eyes.

Shiori, who was coming back towards them with yet another prize, she happened to glance at Orihime's expression and immediately guessed the cause.

"He's not very tactful, is he?" She said gently, causing Orihime to jump.

"Wh-wha? N-oh, I don't know what you're…"

"It's okay." Shiori dumped a teddy bear onto the top of Orihime's pile and smiled an absolute zero smile. "He's so jerky sometimes, I can hardly stand it." She cheerfully told the redhead, who stammered something about Ichigo not realizing.

"A lot of guys don't realize a lot of things, Hime-chan. It's up to you to stay strong and just don't let him get to you." Shiori nearly covered her mouth with a hand once she'd finished the statement. She called Orihime…by a nickname. She was getting way too familiar…Shiori had never, ever called someone by a nickname before. She'd always felt awkward.

Shiori's face turned red. Orihime's eyes were wide.

"Thank you…" She whispered, her large eyes filling with tears. "Thanks. A lot."

"I-it's…don't mention it." Shiori mumbled, turning away. _Ever. I can't believe that just happened. What's wrong with me these days…?_

Orihime stared after her, a content and pleased look on her face. _I'm glad. I'm so glad, Shii-chan, that you feel yourself enough around me. You've changed since you first came to our class._

Watching that cold stare and stiff expression every day, the perfect posture and the precise movements. It had been like watching somebody who was brought up to face pain, to turn a blind eye to relationships.

But now…  
Orihime ran to catch up with Shiori, who was now having an intense conversation with Chad, Jahiro, Tatsuki, and Chizuru about the different games and what was fair to win from each.

_Now you're one of us, Shii-chan. We'll protect you like we would any of our other friends._

_And I'm happy. It seems you are too._

-OOO-

After getting a shish-kabob of meat from the barbeque with Orihime and the girls, they found a nearby bench to sit at beneath the cherry blossoms. There were families who sat on spread blankets as well, and Shiori found herself staring at the sight.

A mother feeds her toddler meat by picking apart the cubes into smaller pieces. An older brother teases his little sister during a game of tag. A father gives his daughter a ride on his shoulders, so that she reaches the lowest branches of the trees and giggles as the pink petals brush her head…

"Shiori!" Tatsuki waved a hand in front of her face. "Where you at? I asked if you wanted the last can." She held out the soda and Shiori took it, suddenly needing a distraction.

"Hey, look!" Orihime pointed at something she saw in the crowd. "That girl's waving at you, Shiori."

Shiori squinted, and saw a blonde teen wearing her long straight hair down, her full bangs setting off her bright eyes. Her clothing contrasted with her appearance- ripped black jeans and a lace-up corset with frilly cap-sleeves, a black and silver studded collar and many other such dark accessories.

She came closer. Shiori noticed a tiny silver chain hanging from one of her ears, and a silver stud in the other.

"SHII-CHAAAN!" Subtlety never had been Ami's strong point.

"Shush!" Shiori hissed into her friend's ear when Ami ran forward to glomp her out of her shoes. "You're attracting unwanted attention, Ami…"

"I don't care!" Ami giggled, releasing Shiori (_finally_) and grinning widely. "I'm so excited to see you! And are these all your friends-slash-classmates?"

"Yes." Shiori said, stepping out of the way so Ami could greet everyone. After the first few introductions had been made, Ami caught sight of Chizuru.

"Hey, 'Zuru-gege! I can't believe you're here!" Ami gasped. Chizuru stood, her eyes flashing.

"Have you been cheating on me, Mi-ge?" Chizuru asked her threateningly.

Ami smirked. "Now why would I do a thing like that?"

Chizuru stared at Ami for a few more seconds, and before anyone could process what was happening, the two were locked in a tight embrace.

"Just keep your eyes focused on me…" Chizuru dramatically whispered, tracing Ami's jaw. People walking by either began to stare or erupted into nosebleeds.

"Always." Ami told her. Shiori could only watch, dumbfounded and having no idea what was going on. Then Ami coughed, and the two separated.

"Um. Yeah. Sorry, guys. Chizuru's an old friend from my tennis classes…we have an odd relationship."

"I can see that." Tatsuki intoned sardonically, rolling her eyes. "And what exactly is the nature of your…relationship?"

"Friends only." Chizuru grinned. "But we like to put on a show." Ami cracked up.

"As for the 'ge' suffix…" Ami stole a sip of Shiori's soda. "I'm part Chinese. My mom's side. Chizuru, therefore, learned a bit of my language and uses it randomly when she's with me, hanging out and such. She thinks it's cool."

"Really? You're part Chinese?" Shiori asked, interested. She'd never known that.

"Yep!" Ami nodded. "But I inherited most of dad's looks."

"What ethnicity?" Ryo questioned.

"Han."

As they were talking, Shiori suddenly caught sight of someone moving by the stage. And she thought she knew who it was.

"Ami?" She went over to her friend, whispering in her ear. "Is Ito here?"

Ami frowned. "Well, she did say she was coming, but…I didn't see her yet. By the way, I'm really looking forward to the café your class is putting on afterwards!"

Shiori sighed. No escaping her fate now. And here she was, hoping that somehow Ami hadn't heard about it. Now she had to face putting on a maid outfit in front of Ami, Ito, her entire class…

Well, everyone else would be dressed up too. That fact made it a little better. "So…is Jiro coming?"

Ami's smile was immediately wiped off her face. "No idea. I didn't care enough to ask him if he was coming."

"Do me a favor, Ami." Shiori changed the subject, staring into her friend's honest eyes. "Please. Don't let anyone know that I work at Sunflower. Okay?"

Ami blinked. "Oh. Um, okay. But why?"

"Trust me." Shiori said darkly. "With the people in my class…oh, never mind. You promise?" She added, gazing almost pleadingly at Ami.

"Promise." Ami held up a hand. Shiori nearly sighed with relief. Okay. One down, two to go. Shiori thanked her and told her friends she'd be back in a little while, slipping off in the direction of the stage. She was _sure _that she'd seen a rather colorful outfit somewhere nearby. If anyone dressed that way, it was Ito.

"Where are you…?" Shiori muttered, searching the workers who were at the right of the large stage, connecting wires all over the place. None of them looked like the figure she'd seen. She snuck backstage, feeling a faint thread of spiritual sense.

What in the world? She squinted around at all of the random people who were now setting up a giant screen. It would be used for the audience at the very back, so they'd be able to see the members of Angel's Rain through the crowd.

Where had the spirit energy come from? Shiori backed away. Maybe she'd imagined it. She kept backing away, further and further in order to disappear within the shadows. Suddenly, she backed into something hard.

"Oh, excuse me." She apologized, realizing that it was a person. But before she could turn around, a pair of arms snaked around her waist for the second time that day. "Ch-Chizuru? Why aren't you with the others?"

"'Chizuru'?" A voice said slowly. It was a low voice that was beginning to sound more and more seductive with every word. "No Chizuru here. But there's hot, sexy me, ready to do your bidding." She felt a smirk slowly form against her neck.

Shiori was sure as heck that Chizuru did not have a voice that deep.

"Please get off." Shiori coldly stated, trying to move away. But to no avail. This guy was holding her tightly, and she couldn't move.

"You seem like a pretty intelligent girl." He breathed, moving his lips to her ear. She felt his words as he spoke them. "Are you lost?"

"No." She bluntly told him, enunciating every word in case this psycho didn't _get it_. "I thought I told you to get off me."

"Aggressive." He murmured. "I like it."

That was the last straw. Shiori summoned her strength and ripped his arms off her, whirling around to get a look at who exactly she was dealing with.

She saw attractively tousled brown hair, perfectly shaped green eyes. A smirk. The face she stared at was handsome, she supposed, but the expression on his face, like he wanted to eat her up, made her cringe back.

"Gotta go." She turned to leave, but his hand caught her arm.

"Wait. Why are you snooping around back here? I could call the authorities, you know." He lazily began tracing a pattern on her forearm. "Trying to sabotage backstage?"

Shiori's eyes cut into him frigidly. "I thought I saw someone I knew. I guess I was wrong."

"A likely story." This guy was so infuriating! His smirk made her blood boil. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"Do I seem like a liar? Look into my eyes." Shiori answered him evenly. He did as she asked, green eyes versus blue. "You could come out and ask any of my friends. They just saw me leave them. Besides, what gives _you _the authority to interrogate me like this?"

His shaped eyebrows furrowed in confusion, letting go of her in his disbelief. "You really don't know who I am? You're joking."

"I'm not." She told him brusquely. "Maybe…you're a pervert who preys upon the innocent girls of Karakura?"

He laughed. "I really don't think you're lying. But seriously? You don't know who I am? That's crazy."

"I already told you who you are." Shiori pushed by him, completely done with the conversation. "You're wasting my time." And with that, she was back out into the glorious sunlight. To her relief, the guy didn't follow her.

"Weird." She muttered, and set off to find her friends again.

-OOO-


	10. Force Field

YO! Everything's figured out, and this story shall commence. *gestures toward new chapter* Please, read on.

~ST15

* * *

_Peace cannot be kept by force;  
It can only be achieved by understanding._  
~Albert Einstein

* * *

**Force Field**

_A commanding voice echoed off the high, red-glassed ceiling of the dim room. Every murmuring voice stilled in order to listen._

"_Send him in."_

_A flurry of movement. The giant doors, which were made of welded metals and encrusted with glowing gems, slid silently open._

_A cloaked, shadowed form entered the room, bowing slightly. "I'm here. With all due respect…why does this have to be me?"_

"_Quiet. You must complete this task simply because I trust no one else at the moment. I expect you to follow orders to the exact letter."_

"…_Yes. But, if I may be so bold, how is this going to help our situation?"_

"_It will help once the Quincy realizes that certain forces aided in her protection. Our forces. And she will seek reason."_

"_Will she? What if this proves to be all for naught?"_

"_It won't be. Because with what happens to be coming her way, she'll need all the help she can get. I know this. I've seen it."_

_Silence. Then the soundless stretch was suddenly broken by the sound of inhuman screams, a horribly misconstrued mantra of tortured, painful wails rising and falling in volume._

"_Go."_

_The sound of footsteps on the cold, black marble floor._

-OOO-

The expansive lawn was covered in people by the time the show was due to begin. Shiori and the others stayed together in a messy sort of group, trailing over to the right side in order to get a better view. Shiori hadn't wanted to be there and said outright that she wasn't interested, but Orihime urged her to stay and watch the performance.

"You might like it, Shii-chan!" The redhead persisted, tugging Shiori's hand. "And I want you to be with us, after all."

"But I should probably…er, check on the café…"

"You can do that later! Look, your friend Ami's here and all the rest of us are staying too. And-"

"Okay, okay. But if I don't like it, I'm leaving." Shiori sighed, wondering if what she was feeling was known as the concept of 'peer pressure,' having never felt it before in her life. She held onto the last semblance of refinement that she had for dear life as she witnessed the excited screams and the friend-clutching and the waving.

_I feel like I've entered a madhouse._

The overhead spotlights dimmed and brightened, spiraling over the massive stage. Everyone cheered. The rows of news cameras focused and refocused, the suspended cameras tilting on their wires above. Shiori recognized her principal as he walked onto the stage, smiling as he addressed the keyed up and energized crowd before him.

"Good afternoon, honored guests. Today, thanks to the combined efforts of the students and myself, we have a very special event planned for you. We have been able to acquire the services of one of the most well-known group artists out there in the music world- Angel's Rain!" He paused to allow the applause and roar of approval that followed his statement, before continuing. "They are to perform for us and show off their unbelievable talent, presenting the most famous songs from their 3-CD package known as 'Light the Way.' I ask that you show your utmost appreciation in the form of thunderous applause, and welcome Angel's Rain to our humble Karakura High school grounds. Thank you and enjoy the show."

The gigantic noise that followed was astonishing. Shiori's ears were throbbing already and the concert hadn't even started yet.

The sound of an electric guitar began to reverberate through the giant amps. Shiori spotted Michiru, Ami, and Mahana up ahead. They were bouncing up and down with stars in their eyes, squealing. Orihime and Chizuru were chapping and shouting, along with Rukia who was following Orihime's movements though her eyes showed bewilderment, looking as though she had no idea what was happening. Ryo was standing beside Shiori, looking bored, and the guys were off to the left, grudgingly getting into it despite themselves. Tatsuki just snorted, moving over to yell in Shiori's ear.

"This is so overrated!"

Shiori nodded in acknowledgement, though she had yet to see Angel's Rain and their supposed talent. She didn't have to wait for much longer. A low, sultry voice floated through the air, whispering out three words.

"_Angels right here_."

Smoke curled out from beneath the amps, filling the stage that was empty aside from the ready instruments. Four shadowy silhouettes began to rise from under the stage, each with a mic in their hand.

"Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod…!" Shiori heard Mahana's shrill voice from up ahead. The smoke slowly cleared, and the echo of a song began to weave its way through the air.

It was haunting. The notes were careful and touching, and the medley of instruments playing was complimenting each other well. Shiori had to admit- this band wasn't bad. The mounting melody slowly reached a crescendo, and then the smoke finally cleared.

But Shiori wasn't paying attention to the music anymore. Her eyes were taking in each member, one by one.

On the drums was a boy who looked way too young to be so talented, so Shiori assumed this was Seiichi. His hair was a midnight black, tousled and tinged with red streaks which gleamed in the lights. His big brown eyes were tilted slightly downward, adding to the pure and innocent look. The twins looked very similar, as both had dark amber eyes and honey-flaxen hair. One played the keyboard and one strummed the base. All were wearing J-Pop style outfits, edgy and street-based.

But it was the leader whose appearance shocked her. He had attractively tousled brown hair, and green eyes. The narcissistic smirk was visible to her even from where she stood. She stared, teeth gritted, at the man who had accosted her backstage.

_So that was the infamous Kazuya Kiraku._

His strong, sultry voice breathed the resuming lyrics into the microphone as he released his electric guitar, and she had to keep herself from shuddering in disgust. Now that she heard it again, she was remembering how his arms snaked around her and how his breath had ghosted her cheek in the dark.

_No wonder he was surprised that I didn't know who he was. He's probably used to girls throwing themselves at him all the time._

Shiori couldn't take it. She turned abruptly and wove through the pulsating, screaming crowd, practically pushing her way through when the need arose. Once she broke free, she walked quickly away from the scene, not wanting to partake in the fandom any longer.

_I'm out of here._

Her stride soon became a jog, and then into a full-on sprint. It felt good to run- she had been trapped amongst the sweaty mass of people for too long. The sweet air brushed her face and blew back her hair as she allowed her legs to take her wherever they would. Somehow, she'd ended up back where all of the carnival games were located, the booths unmanned since the concert was going on.

Shiori breathed a sigh of relief. Now that she was out of there, she could feel free to take a walk or something before the concert finished. She glanced at her watch, figuring that she had at least a couple hours.

The wind blew a little harder. She stared ahead at the random empty carnival booths, and a chill ran down her spine. Without anybody there, the place was a little creepy. She almost felt as though shadowed eyes were following her progress through the maze of carnival booths, watching her closely. She could still hear the concert music in the distance. It gave her some reassurance, though she was inwardly berating herself for acting so silly.

_There's nothing to be afraid of, don't be ridiculous…_

She passed by the dart booth that she played at earlier, and remembered how happy Orihime had been when she'd won her the stuffed bunny. A trace of a smile swept her lips, and she walked on, noting suddenly that there was a very colorful booth at the end of the row that she hadn't noticed before.

Shiori walked up to its counter, surveying the game. It looked very much like a typical Wheel of Fortune; only the writing on the wheel was strange. It didn't seem like it was in Japanese- actually, Shiori couldn't recognize the language at all.

_What is this? I don't remember this specific game being on the list._

A sudden voice startled her out of her thoughts. "Would you like to try your hand at the Soul Circle?"

Shiori, having nearly jumped out of her skin, warily swiveled her head around. She saw no one, and narrowed her eyes. "Who's there?"

A moment passed, and a figure stepped out from behind the large wheel. "Oh, just your friendly neighborhood gamer. Fortunately, I arrived at the perfect time." It was a man's voice, clear and young.

Shiori studied the face of the stranger. He gave off an unrecognizable aura, one that she had never felt before and felt unsettled by it. His eyes pierced hers, and she knew he had come with a purpose. He felt…otherworldly. But not the kind she was used to, for she could see nothing abnormal that was kindling in his spirit energy.

One thing was for sure.

_This being is not human._

His eyes were really unusual- a deep crimson which stood out in stark contrast against his pale, bone-white skin. He wore a black beater and jeans, and stood at least a foot taller than she was. He had a scrawling tattoo on his neck- a black dragon, by the looks of it. It was so realistic-looking that it seemed to be scaling the route up his neck and towards his sharp jawline. Honestly, he looked like a mafia member, but he also had high cheekbones and thick aristocratic brown hair, which kind of ruined the image.

"You didn't come at the right time." Shiori informed him coolly. "The booths were all supposed to have been closed down an hour ago, so you'd better have a good excuse as to why you're here. I haven't seen you around the school, and you don't look like a student."

"Here. Pull this lever to spin the wheel."

Shiori glared. "Didn't you hear what I just-"

She paused when she saw his eyes flash scarlet. His body, for a split second, seemed to lengthen, and his arms to flex. His image wavered, like the heat waves atop a car in the summer. "Trust me; this is for your own benefit. It'll only take a minute, if you'd just play the game. You don't have anything more pressing to attend to at the moment, so pull the lever and you can go on about your day, hm?"

Shiori didn't break her gaze. She realized what this man…or whatever he was…had known from the very beginning. That she had no choice. This being was stronger than her.

"I have no reason to trust you."

"Oh my, you're a difficult one, aren't you?" He sighed. "Well now, I'm just going to have to spin it first- let you know it's safe."

Before Shiori could answer him, he gave the lever a tug. The wheel spun and spun, until it stopped abruptly upon a black section that had white lettering. She tilted her head, trying to read it, but couldn't make it out. He seemed to understand it though, giving a slight nod and gesturing to the lever.

"As usual. Now, you try."

"What…what does it do?" Shiori asked, despite herself. His mouth twitched, breaking into a wry smirk.

"You're wary. It's a good thing, I suppose, although you really have nothing to be worried about. All right." He spread out his hands. "Sorano Shiori, I have been authorized to help you through a much higher being than I, because you aided us in destroying a certain Mukhai Hollow a while ago. Spin the wheel, and claim your reward."

Shiori's mind reeled. He knew about that…and he obviously knew quite a lot. He knew her name, and probably that she was a Quincy too.

"Is nothing sacred?" She muttered to herself, before gripping the lever. A torrent of questions were threatening to burst out of her at any moment, but she figured she'd spin the wheel and do what he asked before demanding any sort of information. "Fine. I'll spin."

"Excellent. My name is Gabriel, by the way. Pleasure to meet you, Quincy archer."

Shiori bit her lip, nearly drawing blood. _I knew it._

But, as she'd already decided- questions later. She pulled back the lever and released it, and the wheel began to spin.

After what seemed like ages, the wheel finally began to slow down, finally settling upon a red section. The written words upon it were fiery and uninhibited, scrawling across the segment like they had been cut with a knife.

Gabriel looked startled, and then quickly recovered himself. "You have spun well. Please claim your prize."

Shiori arched a brow. He'd sounded so self-assured before, but now it seemed as though he were reading lines from a script. His body was tense, and his voice wasn't as languid as before. "But I-"

"Here you go." Gabriel leaned over, pressing a cold object into her hand. She automatically gripped it, opening her mouth to ask the first of her many questions.

"Have a pleasant night." He voiced before she could say anything, and then turned around, touching the wheel.

"Wait! I want to ask you a few-" Shiori called out urgently, but Gabriel held a finger to his lips and smirked, his form shimmering and melting into the shadows.

"Next time, Quincy."

And he was gone.

-OOO-


	11. Acceleration

I have been really loving Chad lately. Like, what in the world. I just might start shipping Chad and Shiori- they'd be so cute! Or...I could just give you lovely readers what you've been begging for and put in some UryuShiori ACTION, baybeh.

Ohmai. Chapter Eleven already. MUCH LURVE to all the peeps who reviewed and followed and stuff.

~ST15

* * *

_The consciousness_

_Of the rapid increase of my superstition_

_Served mainly to accelerate_

_The increase itself._

~ Edgar Allen Poe**  
**

* * *

**Acceleration**

No matter how long Shiori might have searched for Gabriel afterwards, she would never have found him. She realized that from the second he disappeared, taking the Soul Circle wheel with him.

"Damn it." She whispered, feeling as though all of the answers that she was so desperately craving had just been torn from her grasp. As she clenched her fist, she felt the hard press of the object Gabriel had given her. Shiori turned her hand over and opened it, gazing down.

A circle of perfect silver metal was resting on her palm.

She picked it up, examining the ring all over. It was set with a single fiery stone- one that she could not describe in color because it was made up of so many shades. There were burnt oranges, burnished yellows and gold, ruby red…it was beautiful.

There were no inscriptions that she could see. Just a simple silver band set with that stone. Shiori wondered whether or not she should put it on. After all, it could be dangerous. She didn't trust that Gabriel character quite yet- as a rule of thumb, Shiori didn't trust anyone without getting to know them a little. And she didn't know Gabriel at all. She'd spoken to him for a grand total of fifteen minutes, and she wasn't letting up one bit.

Shiori walked out of the empty carnival area, head pounding from what had just occurred. She decided to go into the school, side-stepping some remains from the barbeque and not at all envying the class that had cleanup duty after this thing was over. She sidled past the glass doors, seeing a bench in the hallway by the office. She sank into it gratefully, suddenly exhausted.

_I'm tired already? Usually, I'd take this as a sign that I need to train more often. But this…this was more emotionally exhausting than anything._

Shiori closed her eyes and let her body go. She sank a little lower in her chair, resting her forehead on a hand. _Later. I'll piece this together later. Right now, I have a café to run…_

"Sorano-san?"

She glanced up wearily, seeing Chad standing over her. How long had he been there? She'd been too lost in her thoughts to know for sure. "Oh…Yasutora-kun. What is it?"

Chad's dark eyes stared at her from under his unruly brown hair. "You okay?"

Shiori realized the position she was still sitting in and straightened, clearing her throat. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you."

"…" He looked as though he didn't quite believe her, but nodded anyway. "The concert's nearly over. Inoue-san is looking for you."

"Is she?" Shiori stood, wondering whether or not the concert was already over. "All right, thank you. I'll go see what she needs."

She walked towards her class' homeroom, accompanied by a silent Chad. Shiori side-glanced his way, recalling how funny it had been when they were trying to measure him for his butler costume. Michiru had been on-duty for measuring that day, and there was no way that she was going to reach Chad's immense height. In the end, Shiori just stood on a desk while Michiru held the tape measure from below.

"Is the concert over, Yasutora-kun?" She asked suddenly. She realized that their class would have only a limited time to get ready.

"Not yet. Inoue-san left early to help, along with a few others who weren't interested in the concert." Chad replied, sliding the door open and allowing her to enter first. "And Kunieda-san is in the Rec. room, ready to begin setting up."

Shiori nodded, and went inside. She'd barely glanced around to get her bearings when she was immediately accosted from all sides.

"Shii-chan! We have most of the tablecloths, but I think we're missing one!"

"Somebody needs to get the cold drinks from the fridge downstairs!"

"Listen, Sorano, he isn't letting me do my job-"

"The centerpieces aren't supposed to look that way, you idiot. Everyone's coming to this thing, so if you don't do it right-"

"Where do I leave all this silverware?"

Shiori felt a vein throbbing in her forehead, closing her eyes as a massive headache began to take effect. "Wait."

The noise around her still continued, students carrying boxes here and there, some shouting at each other and some standing there completely clueless and in the way. Shiori's eyes flashed as she drew herself up to her full height.

"Will everyone just shut up for a few seconds?!"

The clamor fell silent immediately.

"Thank you. Now, the café is being held down the hall in the Recreation room, which as you know is right beside the Home Ec. room. You," She pointed at two guys. "Make sure the round tables are out and in their places in the Rec. room. Setup committee- put tablecloths on tables. Ryo's in the Rec. room, and will instruct you further."

She heard them scurrying to do as she asked, and felt inwardly relieved that they were actually listening to her. "You. Lay the silverware out on a side-table so the maids and butlers can easily get to them. You and you, gather the food and drinks committee and _keep_ them all in the Home Ec. kitchen. Mahana will be with them shortly."

Shiori was satisfied at the way everyone was beginning to organize themselves. She went through a mental checklist. The setup was being taken care of, and so was the food. The costumes were lying in wait inside the Rec. room, and everyone had received a memo to wear black dress shoes.

_Hold on._ Shiori suddenly remembered the maid headpieces that Orihime and the others were working on. They hadn't finished them due to a certain crisis with Ms. Ochi's antique china, which were lent to the class for the café. But did the girls finish making them afterwards?

_Oh, for the-_

"Where's Ishida-kun?" She hurriedly asked the nearest person, who happened to be Mizuiro. He was carrying an armload of centerpieces, looking slightly harassed.

"He's in the Sewing Club's classroom, I think. Sorry, I gotta go. Ryo's been…in an interesting mood. She hated the concert."

"Ah." Shiori stepped back, letting him continue on his way. She could understand that. She also happened to know that Ryo enjoyed music that was strictly classical. Anything else, she scorned with a deep passion.

Shiori turned and left the classroom, running in the direction of the Sewing Club and hoping desperately that Ishida would be there. "Ishida-kun!" She slammed open the door, causing a focused-looking Ishida to nearly jump out of his chair.

"Be careful, you made me tie the thread too hard!" He scolded her, using his teeth to try and pry the thread loose.

"Ishida…" She gritted her teeth. "What are you doing? I just realized- I don't think the headpieces were finished. Do you know if they-"

Uryu held up a finger, signaling for her to wait. Her mouth nearly dropped open. She was in the middle of a freaking crisis here and if he didn't acknowledge her and answer her damn questions then-

"There." Uryu stood, tossing his creation to the side. "Now, what were you saying?"

Shiori felt her last nerve wavering, so she forced her voice to sound very, very calm. "Ishida-kun. The maid headpieces. Were. They. Finished?"

"Oh, those." Uryu gestured languidly towards the far right table. "I'd finished them a while ago. They're in a pile over there. Is that all?"

Shiori glanced over and saw the lacy, black velvet headbands. "Ah." Was all she could say. "So they were finished…"

"Of course." Ishida sniffed, pushing up his glasses as he put the haberdashery away. "You must have more faith in me than that."

She blinked. "Well…all right. That's all I wanted to know." She made to escape the scene as quickly as possible, and grabbed an armful of headpieces on her way out the door. "Help me carry these to the Rec. room, will you? We all have to begin getting changed."

Uryu assisted her silently. It was all Shiori could do to keep from laughing out loud- the lacy headpieces looked hilarious in his arms, like he'd just finished panty-raiding a lingerie store. But for the sake of his ego and the fact that they really needed to get things done, she kept quiet. He probably got enough teasing from the guys at being an adept 'seamstress,' as she'd overheard Keigo snickering the week before.

Once they'd deposited the headpieces in the Recreation room, Shiori hurried back to the classroom and retrieved two pieces of paper from a pile in the cabinet. On one, she scribbled '_Girls' Changing Room_' and on the other, '_Boys' Changing Room_.' Then she went out into the hall, and stuck the papers onto the doors of two classrooms. _I have to tell everyone to get dressed now…the café is due to start soon._

Back to the Rec. room. Shiori gazed around in approval at the décor, relishing in the feeling of accomplishment it gave her to see everything looking so neat and professional. She clapped her hands twice, and everyone looked up from what they were doing.

"Right." She exhaled, knowing that there was no time to be celebrating quite yet. "Everyone, go get dressed. Girls, your maid headpieces and outfits are on the right corner table. Boys, your butler ones are on the left. There are two labeled dressing rooms in the hall- separated by gender. Stay in your respective rooms, please."

Shiori could have sworn that she heard a few groans (sounding suspiciously Asano-like), but chose to ignore them. She had to go get changed herself, and then give out the table numbers to the students to let them know which ones they'd be manning for the café.

Once in the dressing room, she began to put on her lace-edged attire along with the other girls. Each maid costume came with the dress, a headpiece, an apron, white knee-length hosiery, and an outer corset which had to be laced up. The skirt of the dress fanned out just so, and the fabric was soft to the touch. _All the lace had been a real pain to sew on_, Shiori reflected. _But completely worth it_.

The girls were chattering away excitedly and helping each other fasten their headpieces. Orihime spotted her immediately, grinning widely. "Shii-chan, look! My dress turned out really nicely!" She spun around, orange hair fanning out and looking quite childlike in her glee.

"It did." Shiori nodded, admiring the fit. "I hope every single one is just as accurate."

Tatsuki's dark eyes held reluctance and embarrassment, looking more than displeased at the fact that she had to wear such a girly thing. "Ugh…I'll be glad when this is over." She said grumpily, fixing the lacy headpiece in her cropped black hair. "I hate lace, and I hate dresses."

"But Tatsuki, you look so cute!" Orihime insisted truthfully, wide-eyed at the transformation her friend had gone through. "You have the perfect body for a dress- and your short hair makes the effect even better!"

Tatsuki eyed herself skeptically, and then ruffled Orihime's hair fondly. "Right. Unfortunately, Orihime, I don't think I agree with you. You're much better suited for this sort of thing."

"Oh, I couldn't agree more!" Chizuru's enthusiastic input only made Tatsuki scowl. "My 'Hime looks good in anything! Probably even in nothi-"

"SHUT UP!" Tatsuki, red-faced, punched a desk while Shiori winced. The last thing she wanted was a full-out war right in the middle of the café proceedings, so she attempted to soften up the atmosphere a little bit by changing the subject.

"Where are Michiru and Mahana?"

"Here!" Michiru's voice squeaked from the far left, and Shiori glanced over to see the shy girl looking adorable in her dress and trendy apron, headpiece and shiny black Mary Janes. She was also blushing like crazy. "I'm not used to getting so dressed up…it feels wrong, somehow…"

"You look great." Mahana reassured her, smiling as she laced up her corset. "Besides, you guys- this is only supposed to last for a few hours. Then we all get to go home and recover."

"Recover is right." Ryo muttered from the area by the blackboard, slipping her feet into her dress shoes. "That concert just about finished me."

"Oh, come on, Ryo. It wasn't that terrible!" Jahiro smirked a little, pressing her hands to her cheeks. "None of them are exactly hard on the eyes, you know."

Shiori cringed as all the girls began putting in their opinions as to who was hottest. The topic had turned to Angel's Rain, yet again. She had no idea what anyone saw in them, and really didn't care to relive the concert experience in her mind, so she finished dressing quickly in order to avoid much more. Shiori didn't want to think about that group, or their _perverted_ leader.

She managed to exit the room without anyone noticing, locating Uryu in the Rec. room. He was already dressed, looking slender and quite trim in his butler costume, which surprised her. Maybe he wasn't such a twig after all. He was standing beside Ichigo Kurosaki, whose bright hair stood out against his dark attire. Ichigo looked like a mysterious secret agent in that outfit...or something equally shady. She bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing.

"Ishida-kun?" Shiori walked over to them, gesturing towards the doors. "I think it's time."

Uryu glanced at her, and then at the doors. She was amused to note that he did so much too quickly. People were already beginning to crowd the entrance, lining up to wait in order to be seated. Shiori inwardly wondered why she'd signed up for this, and then remembered that Ms. Ochi had actually forced it upon her. That woman…

"Let's go." The voice brought her out of her thoughts. Uryu offered an arm, and she stared at him as though he'd just fallen off the dark side of the moon. He sighed, pushing up his glasses. "Just take it. We'll look more professional this way."

Shiori hesitantly put her arm through his, feeling slightly more awkward than she should have felt. After all, this was _Ishida_. Stuck-up, annoying, nit-picking Ishida. To see him as an actual man with actual gentlemanly tendencies was totally out of the question.

The fabric of his sleeve brushed against her bare arm as they moved towards those doors, which seemed to be taking forever to reach. Shiori subconsciously noticed his height- he was probably around five inches taller than she was. She chanced a glance upward. His icy eyes, partially hidden behind his delicate glasses, were staring straight ahead with a look of resolute calm.

Without her even realizing it, they had reached the entrance. And without further ado, they opened Karakura High's Annual Maid and Butler Café to the public.

-OOO-

"May I take your order, masters?" Orihime asked brightly, the air practically glittering around her. Her eagerness was nearly tangible, and it was causing quite a stir amongst the male population within the café.

"Baby, you can take my order any time, any day…" An overenthusiastic customer slid his arm around her waist. Shiori restrained herself from rolling her eyes, and could have sworn she saw a quick movement out of the corner of her eye. But she was so busy getting things for her tables (table twelve had asked for yet another pitcher of lemonade, and there was a girl calling for more buttered scones at table eight) that she couldn't bring herself to care right then.

"No, you can take _mine_." Another protested, attempting to worm his way in. But the two were silenced immediately with a sharp blow to each jaw, so subtle that no one else could have noticed. But Shiori did, and couldn't help but think that those guys had it coming to them. Putting the moves on Orihime was definitely not a wise thing to do with an already-irritated Tatsuki Arisawa in the room.

The café, so far, had been a roaring success. Mizuiro, _Ishida_, and even more surprisingly- Ichigo, were the cause of hordes of girls piling in, giggling and playing with their hair and asking sweetly for seconds. From where Shiori was, in her position of bringing drinks in from the kitchen and back out to the round tables, she was witness to Keigo, who was attempting to act suave, flamboyantly leading a few girls to their seats. He winked suggestively and pulled out their chairs for them.

"What would you like to be served today, ladies?"

"Um…I heard that Mizuiro Kojima is here…can we be served by him today?"

Keigo gaped like a fish, looking rather like a snowball that had been left too long in the sun. Shiori stifled a laugh, and then refocused on her job. She passed by Uryu on her way back to the tables. He was balancing a tray of drinks in his hand, and she found herself exchanging a knowing glance with him. He nodded her way.

It was all going well. Better than they'd expected, actually. Everyone was enjoying themselves and there was more than enough food, and the groups of people wandering in from the concert were still coming.

"SHIII-CHANNNN!" An all-too familiar voice broke through the clamor of silverware and chatter, and all at once, Shiori found herself surrounded in an enormous, bone-breaking hug. "Ooh, Shii-chan is _too_ cute! I just _have_ to take some pictures!" Ami squealed, squeezing her even more tightly.

Shiori, who was struggling for breath, could just barely see Ito and Jiro standing there behind Ami's blonde, wavy perm. "…I…to..?"

"Ami, loosen your grip a little." Ito admonished, grinning. "She isn't going anywhere."

"Aw, little Sorano in a maid outfit. I'm glad I came." Jiro laughed out loud, making Shiori want to just _die_. "This is definitely something you don't see every day."

Ami shot him a glare, as though she were the only one who was allowed to comment on Shiori's appearance. Then she reluctantly released Shiori from her death-grip and stepped back. "Wow, you seriously went all-out for these outfits. They're so pretty and charming!"

"Th-thank…you." Shiori gasped, rubbing her throbbing ribs. "Ito, when did you get here?"

"Oh, I was here the whole time." Ito airily sat down at the nearest vacant table, crossing one leg over the other. "You just didn't see me."

Shiori opened her mouth in order to question the cryptic answer, but the customers on table twelve were already calling for her. She had to get back to work.

"I'm sorry, I have to go." Shiori waved a little, wanting to get away from Jiro's teasing smirk. "Chizuru will be with you in a moment."

She motioned Chizuru over, figuring that she'd keep Ami busy for a while. When she went to go attend to her table, beginning the next series of countless treks back to the kitchen, she regretted it.

Her eye twitched as she saw a flash of light go off behind her, followed by giggles and exclamations. Ami and her pictures…Shiori swore quietly to herself- for about the millionth time since she'd begun this job- that she was never doing this again. Let Ms. Ochi pick Orihime to be leader next time, the girl had plenty of patience and energy.

Speaking of Ms. Ochi. Their teacher was sitting with a few other teachers at table three, being served by Ryo and practically beaming with pride. Shiori allowed herself a small smile, seeing her young teacher like that. After all, it was Ms. Ochi's class who'd put this together all on their own. The woman was obviously being congratulated, because she lowered her head modestly and waved a hand in dismissal.

_Can you feel it?_

Shiori's eyes widened.

Her reverie was broken, broken like shattered glass, as she inhaled a dread-filled breath of tainted air. _No. Not here. Not now…_

The slow, creeping sensation was unmistakable. Unavoidable. Shiori reached out with her mind, closing her eyes and hoping desperately that she was wrong.

The awareness only intensified. Shiori felt the world reel around her, and she gripped a stray chair for temporary support. The initial feeling sometimes made her dizzy and nauseous, and for some unknown reason, this one was worse than usual. _…It's east of here. Crap! Why does this always happen during the worst possible times?!_

She glanced around, searching specifically for Ichigo, Rukia, and Uryu. They obviously hadn't noticed yet, and for that she was grateful. Who knows what they'd do, or if they would even choose to do anything. After all, she had to consider the possibility that they might be her enemies.

Shiori froze. _…That's right…they all might be…_

She exhaled sharply and drew herself up, ignoring the wave of nausea that passed through her. Whether they were her friends or not, Shiori shouldn't care. She shouldn't be forming a bond with any of them.

_I'm forgetting. It's not what I'm here for._

Shiori pulled herself together, thinking fast. Okay. She could escape through the back door in the kitchen- with all the commotion that was going on, nobody would notice her abrupt disappearance. And if she was able to finish the Hollow off quickly, then she could make it back before they realized she was missing.

Her mind made up, Shiori slipped through the kitchen doors and past the harried crowd of maids and butlers, heading for the exit. She breathed a sigh of relief once she was alone in the hall, and ran down a flight of stairs to the first floor. Bursting outside and into the late afternoon air, Shiori didn't stop until she reached an area where she could _really_ run, unnoticed and protected by buildings and houses.

So she ran.

The wind whistled past her ears as she folded time and space, narrowing her eyes against the dust and chilly breeze. It felt so good to let out some energy that she nearly forgot the reason why she was momentarily allowed to run like a Quincy. Almost. The buildings were grey blurs, the sky a mere stretch of indigo above her.

_Where? Right…left…? Above! _Shiori glanced upwards, examining her situation, noticing almost immediately that a rusty ladder was attached to the side of the building. She climbed it quickly until she reached the long, flat roof- of Sunflower Seams, no less.

A disgusting sight met her eyes, one that made her want to give in to her queasiness and let loose the contents of her stomach. The smell permeated the air and wafted in her direction- the powerful, heavy stench of rotting fish.

Shiori stared at the gaping mouth, serrated teeth gleaming in the afternoon sun. Two sharp fins and many tentacles protruded from the Hollow's sides, swiping menacingly at the air and ground, leaving behind trails of steaming slime. Slanted red eyes squinted from the dark eyeholes of the Hollow mask.

_At least there's only one pair of eyes this time…_

"_Well, what do you know?_" The Hollow's evil, glowing eyes narrowed further as it realized Shiori's presence. "_It's the Quincy girl. Lucky me!_"

Shiori didn't dignify this with a response. She removed the stretchy covering from her Quincy charm and touched it lightly, calling upon her bow. The summoning came much easier this time, and Shiori was glad. She sensed that this Hollow…this one was much stronger.

"_You killed one of my brethren, you know. Now I'm gonna kill you._" The Hollow, which Shiori now knew was a second Mukhai, opened its mouth wide.

…_Damn it!_

She had a split-second view of the yellow, jagged teeth and the dark, cavernous throat, before a thick stream of liquid came gurgling up from the recesses of its maw. Shiori hit the floor and rolled, her bow wavering and flickering out of existence. The acid missed where she'd been standing by mere inches.

"_I'm warning you, girl. You don't want to see me angry._" The thing shut its eyes, and Shiori watched in morbid fascination as pores began to open all over the Mukhai's body. Spines jutted out of the slippery skin, and all at once began hurtling through the air like deadly spears, glinting as they sped towards her.

Shiori, who was used to long-range attacks, tried to dodge them all. She spun in place, crouching and using her speed to avoid the barbs. She used the agility that had been instilled within her ever since she was old enough to train, remembering her father's words suddenly as she wove effortlessly through battle.

"_Quickly, Shiori." Her father instructed as a six-year-old Shiori screwed up her face in effort, trying to keep up with him. "Your eyes should be focused straight ahead of you."_

_Shiori pushed herself, beads of sweat running down her temples. Her cerulean blue eyes widened suddenly as she tripped over a protruding tree root, causing her to tumble forward to the ground. _

_Her lower lip trembled as she pointed at the offending object that had caused her demise. "D-Daddy…I fell down…" Shiori tried not to cry. Honestly, she did. She didn't want to disappoint him- he had so much faith in her and she had to be stronger than that._

_Against her will, fat shining tears began to weave patterns down both cheeks. She made no sounds, but her father immediately rushed over and scooped her up, hugging her tightly._

"_Are you okay, precious?" He crooned gently in her ear. Shiori felt safe in his strong arms, and nodded tearfully. She was now. "Let's take a rest, shall we?"_

"_No, Daddy!" She squirmed in his arms until he put her down, and she stared up at him hopefully. "Let's do it again! Please?"_

_Her father rubbed his chin and apprised his daughter- all scraped knees and determined eyes. Shiori felt small under his gaze._

"_Well…if you're sure."_

_Shiori's legs pumped harder than before. She felt the power coursing through her veins. Her tiny sundress floated around her body in the breeze, and her cerulean blue eyes turned lovingly towards her father, who was easily keeping up._

"_How's this?" She giggled, liking the way her hair blew behind her as she ran._

"_Much better, honey. But don't become too confident. Emotion dulls the force of your attack, and weakens your defense. Pay attention now, here comes the next lesson…"_

…

_That voice. Those kind eyes, and gentle laughter. He was so patient with me._

_I loved my father. How I miss him._

Shiori blinked, the Hollow refocusing like an ugly nightmare as she was pulled from past memories.

In her few moments of distraction, two poisonous spikes got through her defense and pierced her right shoulder and leg, causing her to fall to her knees.

"Ah!" She gritted her teeth as fresh pain washed through her, the poison taking immediate effect. _I need to retreat to a higher building so that I could properly shoot my arrows without getting hurt. I should have done that much earlier. Now I'm going to pay the price._

She had to hold herself steady as a nearly suffocating wave of spirit energy came barreling her way. Shiori's eyes narrowed in confusion. It hadn't come from the direction of the Hollow, so what…? She whipped her head around, trying to locate the source.

"You're toast, pal." Came a voice from behind her. All Shiori saw was a flash of black and white, before the Hollow was howling in pain and writhing on the ground, oozing green liquid as half of its tentacles were now severed from its body.

A figure dressed in a black _shihakusho_ landed lightly in front of her, crouching to absorb the shock. As they straightened up, Shiori was able to see a gigantic, curving sword arcing upwards to rest itself on a strong shoulder. It was an image that she had been brought up to be wary of.

…To fear.

She felt her body shaking violently, her hands rendered incapable of movement as she realized what this meant. Her eyes clouded over, hearing the screams all over again. The blood-drenched battlefield. The sickening thuds of swords finding their mark and blood spattering onto the dewy grass.

…_A zanpakuto._

_It's a shinigami._

Her heart nearly stopped as the figure turned its head around, her eyes meeting the sight of bright, orange hair and a serious, permanently frowning face.

"Sorano Shiori. What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

It was Ichigo.

Shiori stood up shakily, closing her eyes tightly and knowing that this could mean the end. All she ever stood for, all she ever lived for…she was at the mercy of the Soul Reapers, yet again.

She had no choice.

Shiori slowly held out her arm, her Quincy charm dangling from the end of the delicate bracelet. It spun and winked in the fading sunlight, and Ichigo's eyes widened.

Her fate- sealed.

-OOO-

* * *

Reviews would be much appreciated! Next chapter is already on the go, but like every other good writer out there, I'm nothing without you guys.

Ciao~!


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